


The Patron Saint of Lost Causes

by ElfMaidenOfLight



Category: Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Canon-Typical Adventuring, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Explicit in Chapters 16 + 17, F/M, Fix-It, Gingerflower, Gingerose, Gingerrose - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Past Abuse, Politics, Post-Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker, Redemption, Reylo - Freeform, Romance, Slow Burn, Stormpilot, mentions of animal death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 98,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22039210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElfMaidenOfLight/pseuds/ElfMaidenOfLight
Summary: She'd been his contact, his handler, and if he had to admit it, not much had changed. Except now she was his jailer, his benefactor; despite all his protests and, admittedly, her better judgment.Surviving the Steadfast, Hux's only hope was to barter his First Order knowledge for his life. It's not a trade the Resistance wants to make. He's a killer of almost unimaginable magnitude, and if he'd been a turncoat once, he'd be a turncoat again.Only Rose, who had been coordinating with the spy unaware of his true identity, believes he deserves a second chance, even if Hux himself disagrees. Buried under all the pain she's endured, some at the hands of Hux himself, is her belief that he can help rebuild a galaxy he once tried to slaughter into submission.
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Rose Tico, Poe Dameron/Finn, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 762
Kudos: 600
Collections: Rose Tico Fanworks





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Love is just a tool, to remind us who we are. And that we are not alone, when we're walking in the dark." -Rudimental

~*~

The communications terminal was flatlined. No transmissions. No secret communiques. No alerts. Nothing. Not for good long while now. It had been hours, and they were starting to get more than a little bit uneasy at all the radio silence.

Rose looked from the one console to the other, from Destroyer schematics back to the receiver relay.

“Any word?”

She glanced up Commander D’Acy, sitting back in her chair. “No,” she admitted, running a hand down her face, trying to massage the fatigue from her eyes. “Nothing from the Falcon. I haven’t heard anything since they touched down on Pasaana. Not a word.”

The air around the base was already tense. She didn’t want to add to how on-edge everyone was feeling, but it was the truth.

“Do you want me to take over?”

“No,” Rose smiled, though it was strained. “I’ll be fine.”

“You’ve been at it all day,” D’Acy urged, brows pulled with concern. “Perhaps Lieutenant Connix could man the radio for a few hours. While you got some sleep at least.”

“I- I appreciate that Commander, but—”

“Oh, don’t take her away from that terminal, Commander.” Connix called from behind one of the map displays. “Rose hasn’t heard from her _boyfriend_ yet either. _”_

Rose flushed.

D’Acy looked confused. “Boyfriend?”

“The spy,” Connix clarified, drawing out potential strike patterns on the pad in front of her without looking up.

“That’s right,” D’Acy mused. “You’ve been the primary contact for our First Order spy since Finn and Poe left. With all the excitement I’d almost forgotten. No word as of late, you say?”

Rose shot Connix a look, even if the other wasn’t watching. “No,” she admitted, “no word. And he’s _not_ my _boyfriend_. He’s just… we have a rapport.” From across the room, she heard Connix snort. Rose threw up her hands. “That’s how you build trust with assets! That’s _literally_ all I’m doing! It’s just _text_ anyway,” she added with growing embarrassment. “It’s not like we’ve talked about anything other than the bare essentials. Troop movements and cargo drops and where to hit essential First Order supply barges—”

“He refuses to talk to anyone else,” Connix quipped, tipping up enough to drape her arms over the top of her console, looking over at the two other women. “And you laugh at his jokes.”

“I’d hardly call some barbs directed at Kylo Ren ‘jokes’.”

“ _And_ you think his formality is charming.”

“It’s _annoying,”_ Rose countered.

D’Acy gave her a pensive look. “He knows Kylo Ren?”

Rose pressed her lips together, sending a glare in Connix’s direction but nodding all the same. She pulled her chair forward to click through a few files, bringing up the spy’s messages she’d received over their recently established secret channel. “It seems so. Higher rank, but obviously not at the top of command. Very unhappy with how things in the First Order are going. They seem pretty determined to throw a wrench into the Supreme Leader’s operations.”

D’Acy read over her shoulder. “So, he’s an Officer?”

“That’s more than likely, given the quality of information.”

“How long has it been since the last transmission?”

“A few days.”

D’Acy pursed her lips. “If they’ve been keeping in regular contact but have suddenly gone dark… not a good sign. Keep an ear out. If anything comes across the radio, let me or General Organa know immediately.”

Rose nodded, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Yes, ma’am.”

D’Acy gave the two women a small smile before ducking out toward the makeshift airfield to check on their fleet’s readiness. As soon as she was out of earshot, Rose swiveled her chair in Connix’s direction.

“Could you _please_ not tease me in front of the Commander!?”

“Everyone’s so tense.” Connix gave her a sheepish grin. “And it’s just so easy.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “I’m trying to be _useful,_ because apparently I’m not important enough to be out there, _”_ she gestured to the sky.

Connix frowned. “Hey, you _are_ important. Don’t say that. The spy’s information has been really useful. It _has,”_ she emphasized at Rose’s disbelieving look. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like it wasn’t a serious job. I’m sorry. I just… I think it’s funny the things we know but don’t know about this guy. I get that you have to build trust with little bits of personal information but… Like, we know they own a cat but we seriously don’t know if they’re male or female? It’s so weird.”

Rose sighed heavily. “Who knows if we’ll ever find out, either.”

They both fell silent.

“D’Acy’s right,” Connix muttered after a long, heavy moment. “Everything going quiet all of a sudden. It doesn’t bode well for our informant.”

“Yeah, I know.” Rose closed the past communiques on her terminal. “I hope nothing’s happened to them. I hope at least they’re alive. They gave the Resistance some vital information. It would be a shame if they were caught and jettisoned out an airlock before we could even thank them.”

* * *

With a sharp, lung-stinging inhale, Armitage Hux jerked awake, body twisting amongst the debris he’d been so unceremoniously tossed upon. With a keen bolt of terror, before he could even get ahold of his bearings, he realized couldn’t breathe. The dented armor plate was crushing into his chest. Although his coat was missing, his crumpled, singed-though jacket was still clipped on by the belt. He ripped off both, unclasping the straps of the thin, now ruined, Beskar steel dual-plate around his chest and abdomen. As the weight came away, he sucked down a lungful of air, coughing and groaning at the pain.

“Damn it,” he muttered, unbuttoning his undershirt enough to reveal black and blue bruises blooming along his upper abdominal muscles.

Another inhale. Another sharp pain.

Perhaps a cracked rib as well…

Battered and broken he was, but undoubtably, miraculously, alive. More than once it had paid to be unabashedly paranoid.

Hux wrinkled his nose, casting his gaze about the small, dimly-lit room in which he found himself. Lazy bastards, he thought bitterly. They’d thrown him into one of the ship’s garbage compactors instead of tossing his body out into space. It was lucky the recent confusion and chaos had led to such serious lapses in protocol, even if the principle of such carelessness irked him.

He tried to find his footing among the slight soupy _whatever_ was down here with him— he tried not to think about what he’d been lying in— and pain lanced up his leg.

Oh yes, how could he forget where he’d _also_ been shot.

The damned traitor.

You’re a traitor now too, a small voice in the back of his mind had to remind him, it’s how you ended up here, after all.

Well, _here_ was exactly where he couldn’t stay. Not if he wanted to make it off the _Steadfast_ alive. Hux shrugged on his coat, giving the jacket up for lost, probably pilfered, and half stumbled, half crawled over the broken bits of machinery and more… _organic_ bits of trash, to the emergency metal rung ladder leading towards the garbage chute’s inner hatch. He was panting by the time he ascended to the top, head swimming and a sheen of sweat beading on his brow.

The slight ringing in his ears was another warning sign. With his luck, it probably meant he had a concussion too.

Leaning on the inside of the door, recouping his strength, Hux listened for signs of movement and contemplated his next course of action.

He had to get off this ship. He could turn right, try and steal back to his quarters. There he could grab an extra firearm, try and gather Millicent and a few other provisions before fleeing for good. Or he could go left, towards the escape pods. The Officers’ crafts were even fitted with hyperdrives. He could be zipping away before they even caught on.

The latter was the more logical option, but there was a tug of regret and pain at the thought of leaving that cat, waiting for dinner that would never come, holed up in his quarters without him.

Well, if he tried and got caught, it wouldn’t matter anyway. He’d be a dead man in his quarters rather than a presumed-dead man chucked down a garbage chute. At least if he got away, there was a chance of rescuing her sometime in the future.

Steeling himself, he made the decision, swinging open the chute’s maintenance door and exiting into the deserted hallway. With one last look back towards the direction of the bridge and his quarters, he limped off toward the escape pods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope ya'llr ready for this ill-conceived roller coaster, whew boy


	2. Chapter 2

Hux kept to the shadows, ducking into alcoves along the way, pressing himself against cold steel as troopers jogged past his hiding spot. He stuffed his fist into his mouth to keep from coughing, every inhale causing a burn in the lower part of his chest. Bringing away his fingers, gloves now long forgotten, he saw they were flecked with blood.

A cold seized in the pit of his stomach.

If he didn’t get medical attention he was going to die. Be it internal injury via blunt force trauma, or slow infection via the wound in his thigh, neither option added to the probability of him surviving.

Urgency took priority over safety. Rather than creeping, he near-sprinted the rest of the way, trying to ignore the pain that had wrapped itself around his thigh; how every time his foot connected with the floor, the agony nearly made him stumble.

He tried to block it out. Focus on his next plan.

They were docked above Kijimi. If they hadn’t locked out his Officer’s code, he could clear the immediate space around the ship and maybe make it down to the surface. Hopefully before the bridge even noticed the escape pod being released. There, he could figure out his next move.

Perhaps his luck was better than he thought. He met no one on his mad dash toward the bay of escape craft. When he ultimately stumbled through the hanger door and closed it behind him, his body finally allowed the pain to catch up with him. He stumbled, knees connecting hard with the ground, a desperate, teeth-clenched whine of pain wrenching free of his chest.

The sound of it startled him, echoing around the hanger. He looked around wildly to see if anyone noticed, sucking in small sups of air to lessen the need for excessive noise. After a quiet moment, he tried to stand, but the wounded leg would not comply. He limped, dragging the weight with him, leaning his entire weight on the handrail leading up to the vertical pod conveyers marked with an Officer’s symbol.

In typical fashion, one pod was pre-loaded in case of emergencies. Hux practically tumbled sideways into the open gullwing hatch, groaning as his body fell against the side of the control panel. Desperate to be free, he powered up the craft, viewfinder flickering to life. Through a haze of pain, he barely had enough time to wonder exactly why there was a new, strange Star Destroyer in the area on the screen before him, before he was strapping in and punching in the launch code. The hatch door hissed shut, mechanism jettisoning him into space. The force flung him back in his chair despite the restraints.

An alarm sounded. They’d picked up on his signature.

Damn it, he thought, struggling to input the commands to enter Kijimi’s atmosphere. He had to get out of there before they—

With a light that very nearly blinded him, Kijimi itself, his best chance to slip away from the First Order unnoticed, exploded with a brilliance he hadn’t seen since Starkiller.

The sheer force of the blast, along with debris and asteroid-sized rocks, rumbled toward him in a wave of energy he could not escape. The force of it knocked the small escape pod end-over-end, flinging him against the side of the craft and tossing the little ship out into open space. With the crack of his head upon the metal siding, everything went dark.

What felt like moments later, and with a splitting headache, Hux roused to a panel of blinking warning lights and the sound of a proximity alarm. Blearily, he touched the side of his head, fingers becoming sticky with partially dried blood.

“Hell,” he muttered, wondering if there were any part of his body not completely broken. Trying to clamp down on the pounding in his head, he assessed the screen in front of him. No First Order ships. But then, no Kijimi either. Just a floating field of partially-vaporized chunks where Kijimi use to be.

The fools had blown up the entire planet. Lucky for him, the minefield of jettisoned rock was probably the only reason he was still alive. Too much wreckage for the computer locate the small escape pod. The fleet must have departed shortly after.

To where, he cared little.

Only one thought frightened him now. Once the Order realized he was alive, they'd come looking for him. He knew too much.

Reaching down into the fold of his boot, Hux extracted his last, most desperate option. A small datachip, barely larger than his thumbnail. Inserting it into the dash, the signal began transmitting automatically. While he waited for a response, he steered the pod out of immediate danger, the proximity alarm going mercifully silent. He leaned back in his chair, trying to catch his breath.

. . . . . . 🀫

. . . . . . 🀫

 _Incoming transmission; code 1.3.1.7.2.5.8_.. 🀫

Amid the organized chaos on the bridge of their Resistance ship, Rose saw Connix flagging her down from the other side of the command deck. They were in the midst of coordinating an attack on the Star Destroyers’ turbolasers, but Connix shouldn’t have needed Rose’s input for that.

Rose jogged over. “What is it?” She asked breathlessly.

“Look!” The woman pointed to the screen, where a small incoming message blinked with promise.

Rose’s lips parted in surprise. “One-three-one-seven… it can’t be. They’re alive?”

“You better reply with your code. Here,” Connix gave her the chair, Rose sinking into it with a huff of disbelief.

Greedy for information, she accepted the incoming connection with her secret number sequence, one the spy would recognize instantly as their handler’s.

 _Datalink connection complete._.🀫

With flying fingers, Rose began typing

 _We haven’t heard a word for days! We thought you were dead.._ 🀫

“Hold on,” Connix leaned over just as Rose hit the command/send key. “Should we have waited until we knew it was really them?”

Rose bit her lip in worry as the reply came through.

 _The fools tried, of course. Gross misjudgment of my commitment to, specifically, not dying_.. 🀫

Rose snorted. “It’s him.” She’d recognize that style of writing in any text chain.

 _Are you still onboard your ship?_ She typed back. _Can you get somewhere safe?_.. 🀫

Hux snorted, grimacing with pain. If they only knew.

 _Consigned to an escape pod, regretfully,_ he wrote. _No provisions or destination. I have information that could yet prove useful to you. I’m willing to trade for safety_.. 🀫

Rose glanced up at Connix.

“Why do we need him now?” The blonde scoffed. “Look outside, we’re crushing them.”

“Yeah, but…” Rose pressed her lips together. “They stuck their neck out for us. Plus, the First Order's invasion force might be gone, but the larger organization is still in operation. Insider information could help us root out the First Order going forward.”

Explosions outside the ship splashed an orange and yellow glow upon the side of Connix’s face, twisted in hesitation.

“Leia would want us to save everyone we could,” Rose pressed, voice soft and even in its solemnity.

“The quickest would be to send him the coordinates to Ajan Kloss. Could be dangerous though. What if they arrive with a whole battalion ready to wipe us out?”

Rose shook her head. “I don’t know, but… I get the feeling they're on the run for good. Why go silent for so long unless something happened?”

Connix sighed in defeat. “Do what you think is right, Rose.” She laid a hand gently on the other woman’s shoulder. “You’ve had more contact with the asset than anyone else. I trust you.”

Rose smiled, giving a nod before reaching back to the computer.

 _I can upload coordinates to our rendezvous location_ , she sent, _Can you make it?_.. 🀫

. . . . . . 🀫

. . . . . . 🀫

. . . . . . 🀫

“They're hesitating,” Connix whispered.

“Maybe they think they’ll show up to a whole battalion waiting to blast them out of the sky,” Rose muttered. “They wouldn’t have survived this long without taking precautions.”

Another long moment of waiting, then the reply came in.

 _My ship is equipped with a hyperdrive. Upload coordinates when ready_.. 🀫

Connix whistled low. “They must really be desperate.”

Rose’s finger hovered over the command/send key. The moment she did this, let the spy know of their base’s location, that would be it. Someone, who’d once aligned themselves with the enemy, would know exactly where to find them. Where to kill them. And it would be _her_ fault. All her fault.

But then… what if the spy was like Finn? Groomed since birth, trapped with nowhere to go until the right opportunity presented itself? Shouldn’t she believe they were all capable of change?

Rose swallowed, chalked it all up to gut feeling, and pressed the send key.

Aboard the escape pod, the display lit up with the Resistance fighter’s final message: a code containing the appropriate coordinates. The screen bloomed with condensation, Hux pitched forward and breathing heavily from stiffness and pain. Concentrating on reading and typing out the messages had sapped his remaining strength. He was trying desperately to remain focused enough to confirm the craft’s destination, but it was all getting to be a bit fuzzy around the edges of his vision.

Giving himself to the Resistance’s mercy might be death sentence in and of itself, he conceded. One look and they’d know exactly who he was and what he’d done. At least, he thought, if they killed him, a blaster to the brain would be quicker than running out of air adrift in space.

Hux input the navigational marks into the ship’s systems, engaging the autopilot command before relaxing into the restraints, struggling to remain awake. 

* * *

The sheer _sound_ of it was overwhelming.

Like the roar of afterburners in a canyon’s echo.

Only it wasn’t rocket fuel, it was the voices of victors, hundreds of them, ringing through the trees of Ajan Kloss so thoroughly that the birds in the forest’s canopy took flight.

Rose, pinned in a group hug, sobbed into Rey’s shoulder as the pair, crushed together with Finn and Poe, hollered with unbridled triumph. It was pure, happy chaos. It had all been worth it. All the loss— her parents, her planet, Paige— it wasn’t for nothing. The First Order’s fleet had been taken down. All that was left was to regroup and begin the cleanup effort.

“You’re not leaving right away, are you?” Rose asked, holding Rey‘s arms tight, even as she leaned back to look at her. “You’ll stay for a few days, right?”

The other woman chuckled softly, an oddly far-off, serene expression on her face. “I’ll stay for a few days. I promise.”

Soon, it was evening time, but the festivities looked have no plan in ceasing. Huge bonfires had been lit in the clearings, dots of flame spanning out from the command center.

Rose walked back from the makeshift bar with a tin can of liquid; crates of something foreign and aggressively alcoholic conjured up from somewhere, no questions asked.

The sky was still bathed in sunset, and to Rose, it was all so dreamlike.

Was this real? Had they really succeeded?

Around the fire, she saw Poe and Finn side-by-side. Finn was explaining, in great detail and with exaggerated hand movements, the assault he’d led while Poe had been airborne. The other man was smiling, but he wasn’t looking at Finn’s antics. His eyes were locked on the other’s face. It was enough for Rose to look away quickly, like she’d caught something private. Maybe Finn didn’t know yet, she thought, taking a seat on an upturned crate. Poe was absolutely, incurably smitten.

Rey had wandered off to meditate. It sounded lonely, especially with such revelry all around them, but Rose wasn’t going to press the issue. From what little she’d gathered from Finn earlier, it was more than a bit traumatic for all of them, most of all Rey.

Across the fire, Rose spotted Connix. The pair saluted each other with their cups of victory poison.

“Hey,” Poe’s voice cut across the fire circle, note of unease pulling everyone’s attention. “Does anyone… hear that?”

Over the crackling fire, Rose strained her ears.

It was coming from the command terminal a few yards away; computer banks all but forgotten amidst the revelry.

It was like… a beeping.

A beeping that was slowly growing in cadence.

Like something drawing closer on the radar.

Over the fire, Rose and Connix’s eyes locked.

“Oh shit,” she saw Connix mouth.

Both women bolted to their feet, racing back under the base’s overhang, ignoring Poe’s calls for clarity at _what the hell was happening._

“Uh, everything’s under control! It’s fine!” Connix yelled over her shoulder.

Rose was way ahead of her, skidding to a stop in front of the computer. On the map display, a small, barely-remarkable blip had come out of warp and into the planet’s upper atmosphere.

“I can’t believe we forgot,” she moaned in despair, fingers whizzing over the keyboard. She was so nervous, and admittedly a little tipsy, that she kept messing up the spy’s access code. “Oh, screw it,” she pulled the intercom toward her instead, broadcasting on their open channel. “Come in, come in, this Rose Tico from the Resistance Base on Ajan Kloss. Code five-five-seven-three-six-nine-five. Come in, come in!”

Lifting her finger from the radio, all that came back was static.

“The autopilots engaged,” Connix called from the map controls. “If they don’t take control of the thrusters, it’s going to be one hell of a bumpy stop when they hit the ground. They’ll survive but…yeesh.”

Looking back, Rose’s heart flipped in her chest. She had to try again.

“This is Rose Tico to the unidentified craft entering Resistance space, come in!”

Static again.

“What if they’re unconscious?” Rose whispered to herself. “Hey, are you able to see where they’re going to land?”

Connix mapped out the trajectory, little dotted lines indicating an impact site not too far from base.

“There,” the blonde pointed.

“O-kay. Anyone want to tell me just what the _hell_ is going on in here?”

Both women looked up to see Poe, closely followed by Finn, entering from the direction of the bonfire.

Connix glanced at Rose, who was holding Poe’s gaze furiously.

“Either one,” Poe lifted a hand. “Go right ahead. I’m listening.”

Before Rose could open her mouth in a thin attempt at obfuscation, a light blazed in the sky, like a little meteor streaking towards them.

“The heck is that?” Finn walked a few paces back outside, squinting up at the sky, the escape pod’s emergency thrusters engaging with a blaze of white light out the nose of the craft.

Taking advantage of the confusion, Rose slipped past, weaving between crates and celebrating gaggles whose attentions were now turned towards the sky.

“Hey!

“Rose!”

“Come back!”

Their words echoed after her as she rushed toward the tree line and away from camp.

“Where is she going?” Back at headquarters, Poe gave Connix one of his non-nonsense looks.

The blonde woman looked sheepish. “Well, we got a message from that First Order spy we’ve been in contact with. We think he was trying to defect for good, so Rose gave him the…” She trailed off, seeing the look of sheer terror the two men shared. “Wait, what am I miss— Hey! Hey!!” Connix watched as they bolted away after Rose, hot on her heels, just as the telltale rumbling of a ship making its crash-landing rattled the communications equipment.

* * *

It felt like he was swimming up from below dark, deep depths, cold waters threatening to drown him.

_You weak-willed boy…_

A voice.

_Such a disappointment._

The sharp crack of an object against the side of his head. Pain blooming like a thunderbolt, erupting stars in front of his eyes. Stars like the vastness of space… no, like lights on a dashboard.

Hux blinked blearily, coming to consciousness like he were clawing his way up from a sluggish sleep that wanted to sink its teeth in and never let go. Once again, it felt like he couldn’t breathe, the ship’s harness a suffocating weight into which he was slung forward. With trembling fingers, he unhooked the restraints, but the craft’s resting orientation sent him tumbling toward the nose of the pod, yelping in pain.

He was on _fire,_ fatigue and infection beginning to seep in, setting him to tremble. Was that it, then? He was going to die like _this?_ Determination and preservation roared to life, licking hotter than the blazing pain in his leg or the seizing agony in his chest.

He need air; _fresh air._

Fumbling for the hatch’s emergency lever, he whimpered, the strain of pressing the handle down nearly robbing him of his last ounce of strength.

A breeze, blissfully cool, rushed into the escape craft as the door hissed, hinging backward onto the ground.

* * *

“Rose!”

“Come back, Rose! You don’t know what you’re doing!”

Oh she didn’t, did she? Just like she didn’t know enough to accompany them on their missions? No, she thought, tearing through the undergrowth, she had spent _time_ developing their First Order asset. There’d been trust built. Tenuous, as to be expected, but _real._ She knew things.

Knew he was born on some rainy planet; hardly ever saw sun as a child.

Knew he’d been drafted into the First Order young.

Knew he had a cat. Mills. Or Millie. Something like that.

She wasn’t wrong about this. This was the right thing to do.

Above the treetops, she could see curling smoke rising from the pod’s crash site. She was just about to clear the trees too, before a hand gripped her by the arm and wrenched her backwards, causing her to stumble into Finn’s chest.

“Hey!” She yelped.

“What are you _thinking?!”_ He looked furious. And maybe he was right; maybe she should have told him and Poe her plans. But everything had happened so fast—the transmission, the battle, the celebration—it was all so blurred together.

Then she noticed he was holding a blaster in his other hand.

“Wh- what are you doing?”

“The _spy?!”_ Finn shouted, incredulous, as Poe broke through the trees behind him.

“Yeah!” Rose wrestled her arm back. “It was good information! They deserve our protection for all the help they’ve given us! They said they could give us _more_. Wait!” Panic spiked in her voice as she watched Poe move around her, his own blaster drawn, out into the clearing. She stalked after, despite Finn’s attempts to hold her back. They all exited out of the tree line to see the craft still smoking, its hatch door popped open and lying upon the ground.

Poe slowed, training his blaster on the dark cockpit.

“Alright, you bastard!” He called into the rapidly dimming evening. “You’re going to come out very, _very_ slowly. No funny business and I promise not to blow your pasty little head off.”

Rose’s brows pulled in confusion.

“When we were on the _Steadfast_ ,” Finn muttered, seeing her expression, “we met the spy.”

“You did?”

“Yeah… we did.”

A thin, labored laugh drifted out from the cockpit, making the hair on the back of Rose’s neck stand on end.

“I am yet… _unconvinced_ of your assurance not to shoot me. Try again.”

Rose took a step forward almost unconsciously. “This… it’s got to be some mistake.”

“I swear to god, Hux, you’re such a damn pain in the ass.” With speed that could only be bolstered by rage, Poe’s hand and arm shot into the cockpit, his weapon still trained toward his quarry. Rose watched with disbelief as a bloody and battered Armitage Hux was dragged forth from the escape pod and unceremoniously dumped into the dirt.

An ice-cold feeling dropped into Rose’s stomach.

“You little prick.” Poe kicked the man onto his back with his boot, sinking his knee onto the smaller man’s chest.

The cold despair turned to white hot rage as the disgraced General’s agonized scream of pain pierced the evening, Poe’s knee crushing into his ribs

“Stop it!” Rose called, emotion welling in the back of her throat.

Poe didn’t seem to hear “You going to tell us what the hell you’re doing here?” He pressed his blaster to Hux’s neck.

Through grit teeth, the beleaguered man practically spit, “I’ll only speak to my _contact.”_

Rose shook her head. “No… no way.”

“Wouldn’t you like to hear my,” Hux yelped as Poe dug his knee in harder, breaking off the cry with a shuttering moan. “…m-my identification code?”

“Oh, I would _love_ to hear your _identification code.”_

“One-three-one-seven-two-five-eight.”

All eyes swiveled to Rose, who had quietly spoken before Hux could do so. The redhead, splayed upon the ground under Poe’s weight, looked confused for a moment, gaze unfocused on Rose as she took a few steps closer. Once he was able to see her clearly though, a brittle realization came over his face

_“Y-you!”_

“Yeah,” Rose said, disappointment and anger plain in her tone. “Me. Five-five-seven-three-six-nine-five. Your contact. Nice to see you again, General Hux.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've written more in the last ten days then in the last ten months. What is this ship? Magic?
> 
> Come fangirl with me: https://twitter.com/girl_among_Mts


	3. Chapter 3

Rose felt terrible. Angry, sure, but at who? At Hux, no doubt. Murderer of thousands and an arrogant jerk to boot. She was angry at herself, too. She’d been reeled in by some text on a computer screen, lulled into thinking the spy could be some sort of hero, some lost soul in need of repentance. But it had turned out to be Hux, the architect of everything that had all but destroyed the galaxy, who’d turned on his own organization simply to save himself.

She kept glancing furiously back at the three men behind her, a bleary-eyed Hux hoisted between Poe and Finn as they trudged back to camp. Every so often the redhead would stumble, feet dragging on the forest floor before being lifted up again. It was obvious he was trying to keep quiet, holding back the pain behind gritted teeth, but a hiss here and a gasp there did little to belie how injured he was.

“You look like shit,” Finn mumbled.

“Yes, well, you did shoot me.”

“You asked me to!”

“In the _arm!”_

“Shut up,” Poe cut them off, catching Rose’s eye as she looked back again. He was seething with anger too, she could tell. “Look sharp _General,”_ he added with considerable venom, “stockades’ this way.”

At his voice, Rose felt a stab of panic.

“Wait,” she said, stopping in her tracks. “Medbays over there.” She pointed in the opposite direction. When Poe pushed past her, she caught his elbow. “You can’t seriously be thinking of throwing him in a cell. Look at him! He’s falling apart!”

“It’s called dying,” Hux corrected her.

“He needs medical attention.” Rose pulled on Poe’s arm when he avoided her eyes. Despite how much she detested the man, she wasn’t going to let him die. “He’s _my_ asset!”

“This is _my_ call,” Poe hissed back.

She bristled, her anger suddenly redirected. “Leia put him under _my_ supervision.” He looked unconvinced. “He saved your life,” she said, incredulous. “His own people shot him so _you_ could escape. Is that really how you're going repay him?”

Finn glanced over Hux’s bowed head. “She’s got a point, you know.”

Poe’s resolve seemed to crumple a fraction.

“Fine. You want him?” Poe’s nose scrunched in disgust. “You got him. He’s _your_ problem. But we’re still taking him to the holding cells,” he added when she opened her mouth to speak. “We can have one of the medical staff sent over to take a look at him but he’s _staying_ in the stockade. He's too much of a risk not to have him confined.”

“Fine,” Rose said, hands on her hips.

“Fine.”

“ _Fine!”_

“Uh, guys?” Finn cut in, giving their captive a little shake. “I think he’s out again.”

Rose peered around Poe’s shoulder. Hux was slumped forward, hanging uncomfortably by where the boys held him up under his arms. He really did look terrible now that she got a good look at him. There was a splash of dried blood upon his brow and down the side of his face, making his red hair look almost black. He was missing his greatcoat, but under the tattered jacket she could clearly see dark purple splotches on the bit of skin peeking through. The wound on his leg seemed suspiciously puffy; probably an infection.

Could it really have been him, she wondered? The man who’d tried to have her executed was the same spy who’d given the Resistance such vital information?

_“I don't care if you win. I need Kylo Ren to lose!”_

That’s what he’d said, according to Finn. Not surprising, really. The spy— er— Hux had never really given the impression that he cared about their cause.

 _Do you want the information or not?._.🀫 Was all he wrote when she'd pressed him.

And they did. Desperately.

But _that_ was the reason Hux defected? Because he hated Kylo Ren?

Her mind was reeling as she followed the three towards the jail cells, located in one of the base’s connecting caves. Not at all like the shiny, holo-shielded brigs on the Resistance flagships; these little chambers were carved out of the rock itself, openings secured with thick durasteel bars and sporting low, stone slab pallets. Finn and Poe deposited the unconscious General onto one of the hard bunks, moonlight filtering in from the tiny barred window near the ceiling. Rose shivered out in the hallway, illuminated by a rope of dangling lights that hung overhead. The cavern was slightly damp; chilly in the early darkness.

“Do we have blankets?” She asked, rubbing her arms.

Poe made a noise of reluctance, but Finn pointed to the bank of lockers out in the hallway. Rose fished out a coarse wool sheet, barely long enough to wrap around someone Hux’s size, and frayed at the edges. It smelled a little dusty, but seemed warm.

On the stone cot, Hux’s head lulled to one side.

“Alright,” Poe clapped his hands together, like he were ridding himself of something particularly messy. Coming out into the hallway, he fished something out of his pocket and tossed it in Rose’s direction. She caught it with one hand. It was flat datachip, one which would open the cell. It was a testament to how ancient the base really was; physical keys instead of a lock with an input code. “Now you’re the head Engineer, the lead Spymaster, _and_ our jailer. Congratulations on your promotion.” Without another word, he turned on his heel and stalked haughtily out into the night.

Rose moved toward the cell’s open door, looking at Hux but speaking to Finn, who was still standing in the corridor. “He’s not going to get the med staff, is he?”

“I’ll send them,” Finn said. The he sighed. “You really think this is a good idea? The least he’s done is try and get the two of us executed. But Starkiller? Our fleet? Project Resurrection? How many people has he killed, let alone tortured? Billions?”

“I didn’t know who it was when I gave him our coordinates.” A heavy feeling settled in her chest; disappointment and shame.

“Would you have? If you knew?”

“I don’t know.”

She really didn’t.

Could she have let Hux die? _Knowing_ it was Hux? Knowing what he’d done?

Oh, she wanted to say yes. _S_ he _wanted to._

“Do you think Leia knew? Who the spy was, I mean.”

Rose shook her head softly. “I… I don’t know.”

Finn sighed, patting her on the shoulder. “I know Poe would like nothing better than to throw Hux into a trash compactor, but he won’t. Because Leia wouldn’t. He knows that. That’s why he’s so mad. Leia would’ve done what you did. She’d be proud.”

For saving a murderer? An unfeeling monster? Like Hux?

“You think so?”

He nodded. “She was the best of us.”

They watched their captive in silence, until he twitched and moaned in his sleep.

“Right,” Finn said, “I’ll send over the medic. Here, keep this.” He clipped his blaster onto her belt. “Just in case.”

“Thanks, Finn.”

“Yeah. No problem.” 

* * *

Large hands held him down despite his thrashing, something white-hot burning into the crook of his arm. His was small again, looking up with misplaced longing instead of down his nose with derisive dismissal. That would come later. No, right now, he was powerless. Tears blurred his vision, and he tried to curl himself into something small, so small and insignificant that he'd truly disappear. As much as he wanted to stand his ground, defended her, in the end he always was a coward. Just a weak-willed boy. His body became sluggish and numb, unable to even crawl away.

His vision shot through with scorching red beam and a woman screamed, but he could not see her.

And then he woke, knocking back whoever had been hovering over him, the object they’d been holding clattering to the ground.

“Good gracious!” A woman’s stern voice, old and cracked like leaves, one he did not recognize, spoke from somewhere above him. “Manners, young man.”

Through a swimming gaze he saw a hunched-back crone stoop to pick up a small metallic device, lekku shifting. She was bathed in the light of the moon, along with tinny yellow beams from sparse, overhead bulbs. Behind her, another figure hung back in the shadows, holding something in their arms.

As the Twi’lek crept closer once again, silver instrument moving towards him, he flinched away instinctively. “Stay back,” he hissed. He tried to sit up, but his body felt beyond his control, still and unmoving. “I- I demand to know what you’ve done to me."

The crone waved her instrument in the air, a flippant gesture. “Just a little injection. Numbing. For the pain. So you stop your thrashing; making everything worse.” She pointed a gnarled finger to the inside of his right arm, where there was a bandage over an obvious needle prick. “Had to use some of the good stuff on you, boy. Now hold still. I’m trying to spray this on your head wound. It would hurt less if you stopped all your fish wriggling.”

Hux bristled at her tone, and at the near-quiet snort from the other side of the room, which made him even more irritable. He glared over at the figure, still fuzzy at the edge of his vision, and tried to sneer, although it came off more tired than intimidating.

“Enjoy watching torture, do you?”

The figure scoffed. “Oh please,” it was _that_ woman’s voice, the one from the _Supremacy_ ; from the forest clearing. The one who _bit him._ “Therissa’s the best field medic we have. Don’t be such a baby.”

“But she’s… old. Ouch!” The Twi’lek had moved from his head, which buzzed pleasantly with a cool numbing, to his ruined leg, which she’d grabbed rather roughly at his words, turning it toward her. Hux leaned his head back against the cold stone slab and groaned in pain.

“Lucky this didn’t sever anything important,” the healer remarked, prodding at the skin around the wound, which, thankfully, he was beginning to feel less of with all the drugs coursing through him. Fiddling with the object in her hand, she injected the restorative compound into the skin on both sides of the injury. “This should stop the infection and begin the healing process.” She took a two large patches out of the many folds of her coat, fabric like overlapping flower petals. She peeled away the adhesive side, before pressing one against the gash in his leg. “You won’t be able to put all your weight on it for a week or so, but if we’re vigilant you should heal up.”

He tried not to wince. “And the broken rib?” He muttered.

“Two, actually, but they’re just fractures." She slapped the second pad onto the central bruise on his chest. "Not much we can do about that now, is there? It will take some days to heal with the proper medicine, but we’ll keep it monitored. You did ingest a fair bit of blood, but it’s not life-threatening. There now, satisfied?”

Hux didn’t know how to properly respond, so he just stared at her. The old Twi’lek peered back before turning to shuffle away through the jail cell’s door.

“Thank you,” he said stiffly, like he wasn’t sure he was speaking the correct language.

The crone paused, inclining her head toward him through the bars, before taking her leave. Outside, in the brief silence, he could hear the muffled sounds of people and nighttime insects.

“So... Finn was pretty sure he didn’t shoot you in the chest. What the hell happened?”

Her voice; she was disappointed in him.

“Pryde.” His breathing stuttered. “They— saw through me. After I freed your comrades.” 

"And yet you're not scorched through."

"B-Beskar."

Hells, he hurt.

She was silent for a long while. Minutes? Hours? He wasn’t sure. Everything was a haze.

He licked his dry lips, swallowing thickly with a cough.

“Are you thirsty?” She asked.

The young woman stepped forward, and he could finally see her in the light that slanted over her face, reflecting on her dark hair. She looked different, he thought, from when she’d worn the teal of a Major, but the fire in her deep, dark eyes hadn't changed. 

She was holding a blanket and a canteen, and her gaze was hard, as if the possibility of his thirst offended her personally. Wary, he nodded without a word. He wasn’t so pigheaded as to refuse water just because she was his enemy.

She approached, going down on a knee in front of him, and he tried to angle his face away so he didn’t have to look at her. Lying broken at the hearth of the enemy was humiliation enough without her accusing eyes.

“You can’t drink the water if you’re not facing the canteen. I’m not going to force feed you,” she snapped, impatient.

Hux turned his head back toward her, heat flaring in his cheeks at the mere _suggestion_ , ready to snarl, but his eyes caught on the pendant around her neck. Haysian ore. It glittered in the dim light.

He could remember the sound of it. Cannon fire on a planet’s surface.

She should be sheathing a slow knife into his neck, not offering him a drink.

“Can you sit up or anything?”

It took him a moment to work out what she was asking. He tried to slide his body backward, but the drugs were making it almost impossible to use his muscles properly.

“Damn it,” he muttered. Abject helplessness, which he had experienced many times during his youth, and in adulthood at the hands of Ren’s Force choking; Snoke’s battering, was not a sensation he particularly enjoyed. It made him nervous. It meant his control was slipping, and more often than not, control was all Hux had. Trying a second time to get his body to respond, only to have it tense lamely, started a keen note of panic in the pit of his stomach.

She could clearly see his distress, the rigid expression on her face breaking a little.

“Hey, stop,” she set the canteen and blanket down. “Here, let me help before you hurt yourself even worse.” Much to his extreme discomfort, she slipped an arm behind his shoulders, pulling him up and back so he was reclined slightly against the wall. The movement caused a dull, throbbing pain that made him hiss. “Sorry,” she said, “but it’s better so you don’t choke.”

His mouth worked, jaw clenching over and over. She was in his personal space and there was nothing he could do to push her away.

“Well, you probably can’t grab the canteen either, can you?” She sighed, sounding put-out, working over the problem before coming to some sort of personal resolve. Slowly, she reached out toward him, her fingertips grazing the back of his hand with the most tentative of touches. Surprise blinked over her features, like she was amazed the contact hadn't burned her, or that his skin wasn’t cold and inhuman.

He screwed his eyes shut, lamenting that Kijimi’s explosion hadn’t been kind enough to simply obliterate him.

Gently, she wrapped his fingers around the bottle, holding them in place with her own. Her hand wasn’t as soft as he’d expected, but it was warm. She used his own arm to guide the rim of the bottle to his mouth.

Once the cool water passed his lips, thoughts of death evaporated, and he drank greedily. He kept his eyes trained on her, trying to stay vigilant lest she pull some kind of trick. He found himself wondering instead at the way the light made her glow, such a contrast to the cold, harsh tones of anything remotely like the First Order. His thoughts chased each other, fizzling out before he could complete them; the meds making him woozy. 

“What is it?” She asked, pulling the canteen away when he was finished.

Hux swallowed. “I am unable to remember your name.”

She looked confused. “Why do you care?”

“It's a reasonable question,” he frowned, affronted at her tone. “And… I’m unsure if it’s because of the medication or because I simply do not know it.” His head was getting fuzzy again, only this time it didn’t feel like a cold wave rising up to drown him, but a gentle slip into her radiating warmth

Her mouth formed a silent ‘oh’.

She set down the canteen, reaching for the blanket. She didn’t look at him.

“It’s Rose. Rose Tico.”

* * *

He must have fully succumbed to the drugs coursing through him. The next time he woke it was day, sun casting diffused light through the window at the top of his cell. He was back to lying flat on the stone pallet, warm under the small but thick blanket.

Next to his cot sat the water canteen and a small pile of ration bars. Hux rolled onto his side, body stiff and twinging with pain. He gulped down the water, unwrapping and nibbling on the bar without getting up. The food, little though it was, filled his stomach. He drank the rest of the water.

Through fitful, drug-induced sleep, he had the vaguest sense of the Twi’lek returning. She injected him and took his vitals before shuffling out.

 _She_ was there too, but stuck to the shadows and only came during the evening. He suspected she was the one who kept refilling his water and bringing him food. 

A few days after his arrival, crash landing into the mercy of the Resistance, Hux felt well enough to sit up. His chest ached dully, as did his leg, but the patches were doing their job. The cut on the side of his head was even healed, save for a thin scar, the dried blood having been dabbed away without his realizing it.

It was late morning, and he was chewing on a ration bar when they finally arrived.

The woman, Rose, and, to his displeasure, the pilot.

“Well, looks like you’re settling in,” Poe crossed his arms. He nodded to Rose, who unlocked the cell’s door with the keycard.

Hux ran a hand through his hair to push it back, but the lack of pomade made the gesture useless. Setting the ration bar down, he rose to stand at attention, trying to pull his uniform into a more respectable fashion, despite its ragged appearance.

The pair came inside, Rose locking the door behind her.

Poe gave the man a look of faux amazement. “No longer dying?”

Hux’s lip curled. “It appears so.”

“We had to ration some of that First Order medicine we stole from you guys a while back. Potent stuff.”

“How very generous of you.”

Poe planted his hands on his hips. “You don’t sound very grateful for someone who’s still breathing. Especially when so many people ‘round here would love to put you in the ground.” A muscle in Hux’s jaw twitched. “Well, since you’re _clearly_ feeling better, it’s time to discuss just exactly what you want out of this little arrangement. Rose said you claimed to have some information to help us going forward. You broke us out, so I’m willing to listen.”

Hux glanced in Rose’s direction and back again. “I was under the impression it was her job to ask the questions.” He could tell the insinuation bothered Dameron in the way the man’s shoulders rose, like hackles on a dog.

“ _I’m_ in charge here, buddy,” Poe snapped, hiking his thumb at his own chest.

Hux sneered. “Clearly.”

Rose took a step around Dameron. Hux tilted his chin down a fraction to look at her.

“Poe’s right,” she said, a frown pulling at her lips. “We’re not giving you free room and board for nothing. Information for safety, remember?”

His leg was beginning to ache. Despite the twinge of embarrassment at breaking his stance, he had to sit before he tumbled to the ground instead. With a huff, he sat back upon the long stone bench, but kept his back ridged with practiced formality.

In this position, he was looking up at her instead. A surreal reversal from when she’d been his captive on the _Supremacy._ The hand she’d bitten curled into a fist upon his knee.

“What has happened to the First Order?” He asked.

“We don’t need to tell you anything,” Poe seethed, but Rose didn’t break eye contact.

“There was a battle on Exegol. Palpatine’s fleet was defeated. Pryde is dead.”

Good, Hux thought with acidic vindication. He pressed his lips together, wondering which underling had taken control of the _Finalizer._

“So,” Rose stood with one hip cocked. Highly unprofessional, Hux thought. “We told you what’s happened to the fleet. Now you tell us something. A question for a question. How about that?"

Ah, they’ve come to the transnational part of the relationship. This, Hux could understand.

"It’s my turn," Rose added. "So, tell me, why are you here? Why are you doing this? Finn said you wanted to stick it to Ren, but that can't be it."

Hux sniffed airily. "It's true. I would like nothing better than to rid the Order of Ren's malign influence.” It was high time to cut the deadwood from the wandering beast the Order had become under all those damnable Force users. Perhaps the Resistance could help with that, chipping away at the bloated, unmanageable bits, leaving a nimbler force ripe for re-constitution. It would be the ultimate long-game.

“You mentioned the fleet, the Emperor; Pryde. What’s happen to Ren?”

“He and Rey fought against Palpatine. Rey was injured and he gave his life to save her. I’m not sure about the details.”

Ah, a true fool to the end then, Hux thought. Thinking of Ren and his bullheaded ideas made him flush with anger.

"But we're not here about Ren," Rose said with pointed finality. “We’re here about _you._ How exactly do you think you'll be able to help us?”

“Most of our operations are hidden in the Unknown Regions,” he said in a matter-of-fact tone. “If the fleet’s been disabled then we are a weakened threat, but there are still several installations yet untouched.”

Rose touched her chin with a finger, thinking. “Installations? Like, specifically…?”

Hux smirked. “Ah, a question for a question, as you said. Besides, if I tell you everything now, what’s the incentive to keep me alive?”

One of the woman’s eyebrows twitched up. “Touché. What else would you like to know?”

“I’d like the courtesy of knowing where I’m currently being held. The coordinates you sent me were encrypted. They brought me here, but I am so far unaware as to where _here_ is.”

Rose narrowed her eyes. “That’s a pretty dangerous ask.”

“Yes,” the corner of his mouth twitched up, “it is.”

She held his gaze, and there was a certain glint in her eyes that intrigued him.

She was… enjoying this.

Interesting.

Hux had to remind himself, this indeed was the same woman he’d been corresponding with during his last few months upon the _Steadfast._

While their communications had largely been formal, it hadn’t stopped her messages from containing such an engaging, unique voice. From inserting bits of wit and sharp critiques, to building just enough of a personal rapport to secure his confidence. It was what any good handler would do. She’d had a keen ability to take what scant information he gave her and see through to exactly what the Order was planning. He'd been impressed, and now he knew why.

“Rose,” Poe cautioned. Hux blinked, glancing at him. He’d forgotten the man was even in the room. “I don’t think—”

“Ajan Kloss, Cademimu sector,” she said.

An Outer Rim territory. Interesting.

After a moment’s thought, he inclined his head slightly, indicating that she should continue.

She shifted her weight to the other hip. “What kind of First Order installations are in the Unknown Regions?”

“Shipyards, weapons factories, bases. Starkiller was one such station, but there are others.” At his mentioning of Starkiller, a shadow passed over the woman’s face, as if she’d momentarily forgotten who he was in the heat of their conversation. “In any event,” he pressed on, “if you wish to truly subdue the Order, you will need to disable or commandeer these places. If I can retrieve some of my things from the _Steadfast_ I can supply you with locations, officer’s codes, and other documents of import.”

Then he could slip away, escape with the Destroyer and Millicent and begin again. He imagined her curling by his feet in his war room, purring. The thought elicited the smallest of smiles.

Poe snorted, hands still firmly planted on his hips. “The _Steadfast?”_ He laughed, a single note of ridicule. “Didn’t you hear what Rose just said? That piece of junk crashed onto the surface of Exegol. It’s gone. It exploded. More than half the remaining stormtoopers that survived have already defected. The Order is _done.”_

The smile on Hux’s mouth froze.

Gone?

Oh.

But—

He looked at Rose, unable to hide his desperation. _“Gone?”_

She didn’t have to answer. Just the way she avoided his gaze told him enough.

_How—_

He tried to cover his sudden shock but failed. In an attempt to save face, he bent his head, hoping the hair that had fallen out of place could hide his expression. Now both his hands were fists upon his knees.

Was that it then? A cold dread spreading through him. All his work, all his efforts. All the times he had to look over his shoulder to thwart his enemies, fight to keep his head above water, survive long enough to rise through the ranks and bend the machine to his will…

Yes, he had become disillusioned with the Order's direction under Ren. But the organization _itself?_ There was still pride there, for what he had been able to build; what they'd wanted to achieve.

Now it was gone, and he was sitting in a cell, and for what?

And now Millicent—

Unconsciously, he mumbled the tabby’s name.

Rose went pale, realization dawning on her face.

“What?” Poe leaned forward. He hadn’t been able to sort out Hux’s words, but Rose had.

“Millicent,” Rose supplied in a breathy voice, like she couldn’t get the proper amount of air into her lungs. “ _That’s_ her name.”

Poe shot her a look. “What? Like—like his girlfriend?”

Rose swallowed heavily. “N-no—”

But Poe rounded on Hux. “You had a girlfriend?” He sounded bewildered. “What, some Trooper you were getting it on with in the droid closet?" He laughed incredulously. “Don’t feel too bad Hugs, I’m sure she was just fucking you for an advancement.

Rose gasped in true horror. “ _Poe!”_

But his gaze was hard, cruel, caught up in the triumph over a man he’d once only dreamed of bringing to heel. “Well that’s too bad, isn’t it? Everything and everyone in that ship is gone. Space dust. Vaporized. You’d be lucky to find a finger bone, pal.”

Hux moved faster than Rose had expected in his condition, and from a seated position too. Even Poe was momentarily taken aback as Hux vaulted from the bench with an almost feral cry of anger, one arm cocked back to strike Poe in the face. Of course, Poe was faster on any normal day, let alone with Hux being injured. Rose jumped with a yelp as Poe reeled back and struck Hux in the stomach with his fist.

The other man doubled over with a cry of pain, going to his knees, arms wrapped around his middle as he pitched forward, forehead pressed to the ground.

“The hell?” Poe took a step back, shaking out the tension of the hand he’d used to strike.

“Millicent wasn’t his girlfriend,” Rose said quietly, staring at the man on the floor, who was trying and failing to push himself back up with one hand. “It was his cat.”

Hux’s hand curled back into a fist, but he could barely raise it from the ground. Head still resting on the cool stone, he struck at the floor weakly. Rose heard his labored breathing, pitched oddly high, as if he were trying not to cry. He was trembling, very slightly.

“His _cat?”_ Poe looked uncomfortable. Almost regretful. “All that over a _cat?”_

Rose shook her head. He probably had nothing else, she thought, but couldn’t bring herself the voice the words. Instead, she bent down, trying to settle a hand on the man’s shoulder. Her concern automatic in the face of such sorrow. At her touch, he jerked up just enough to push her away, causing her to lose her balance and fall back onto the ground.

_“Don’t touch me!”_

The glimpse of his face, screwed up with pain and anger, tore at her heart with unexpected ferocity, despite knowing what Hux had done and what misery he’d caused. He was a monster, but loss was loss. She understood it all too well. They all did.

* * *

“What were you _thinking?”_ They’d left Hux quickly after that, but Rose caught Poe as they made their way back to the hanger. "We're suppose to be convincing him to help us. He's not going to even _talk_ , let alone spill First Order secrets, after _that_." She gestured back to the holding cells behind her. "If this is going to work then you can't keep provoking him."

He wouldn’t look her in the eye. "I know. I know! It's... I got carried away, okay? He's just _such_ a bastard, Rose! He should know what it feels like!"

She scoffed. “So you punch him?”

“He came at me! I just reacted on instinct!”

“He can barely stand!

"How was I supposed to know the slimeball had a cat, anyway?”

 _“The cat is not the point,"_ Rose groaned. "He saved your life!”

Poe stopped retreating and turned, pulling himself up to his full height and going toe-to-toe with her.

“And how many times do I have to keep repaying that debt, huh? He's here, isn't he? He's alive. We're going to be feeding him. Housing him. Wasting our provisions on him. That's not enough? He didn’t even let Finn and I go to help _us._ He did it for _himself!_ He's not some lost Stormtrooper looking for a trade in, Rose!”

"I know who he is," she countered. "I'm not under the impression that he's here out of the goodness of his heart, but we prove him right when we treat him like he's worthless. Because that's how they’d treat _us._ " She jabbed at her own chest.

Poe seemed pinned in place at that.

"Guys? Everything okay over here?" Having heard the commotion, Finn came bounding up, and put a gentle hand on Poe's shoulder.

At the contact, Poe sighed, “Yeah." He looked at Rose, sheepish. "You're right, okay? I'm sorry. I messed up. I let him get under my skin and it was stupid.”

Rose nodded. “He's good at that, but you have to keep it together. Hurting Hux doesn't help us any."

“I know, and we don't have to stoop to his level." He ran a hand through his hair. "Next time, just give me a bit of warning, okay? Give me a heads up before go about rescuing more wayward First Order fanatics. That’s all I ask.”

"Yeah. I will." Rose crossed her arms. "Just promise you'll leave Hux to me."

"You got it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> now ya'll know why I never mentioned Millicent in my review replies... oof  
> sorry :/
> 
> Check out my 'Patron Saint' playlist on Spotify:
> 
> \--> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5maTA7zOnxLrKKuHb7Ln9S?si=IO_WN_alS1u8-D4Y4ndLwA


	4. Chapter 4

“You have to eat something.”

“I’m not hungry.”

Rose’s shoulders hunched, watching Hux from the other side of the bars. He was sitting on the stone floor, back against the wall, staring at the ground. He'd so far refused anything but the ration bars, which looked like he was nibbling at off and on. They’d been allowing him use the bases’ fresher under guard, but he still looked a mess, and for a man usually so fastidious, such behavior rang alarm bells in Rose’s head.

She knew what this was. This was grief.

Well, he was no use to the Resistance a starved or broken man.

She wanted to hate him for making her feel this way. Like she had to care about him in even the smallest, minute, human sense. She wanted to scream at him, throw things, but that wouldn’t help anyone; the Resistance, Hux, or her.

She could feel bad for his cat, though. Another innocent life destroyed by simply existing in the man’s orbit. That was something she could understand.

She took a steadying breath, steeling herself, and said, “I’m came to say sorry about yesterday. Millicent, and Poe. That was cruel of him.” The words tasted like ash, but she said them anyway. She had to show him; they weren’t like the First Order. “What, um, sort of cat was she?”

She swore she saw his lower lip tremble before answering, “Ginger.”

Like him.

The thought tightened her throat.

“I know how you’re feeling,” she said quietly. “A lot of us around here do.”

He was human, after all; even if it was more personally convenient to think of him as a devil.

“Commendable,” Hux muttered, “but I’m not interested in talking through _my feelings_ on the subject. I’m sure the Resistance’s weekly group sessions work wonders for you all.”

Rose glared. What a jerk. Did he see anyone else standing outside his cell even _trying_ to talk to him? No, she didn’t think so.

“Fine. Don’t talk about _your feelings_. But I can stand here and talk as long as I’d like. It’s not like you can just walk out of the room or anything.”

“I’m quite capable of ignoring you.”

“Yeah? Good job with that so far.”

His jaw tensed, scowling at the ground.

“Look," she said, "I know you’d like to think you’re some kind of superior being and all that, but losing someone or something you care about is the same. Resistance or First Order. Loss is loss. You’re not special.” Hux snorted, finally looking in her direction. That caught Rose off guard for a moment; it wasn’t supposed to be funny. She swallowed. “I know you feel isolated right now, but believe me, talking about it helps. Not talking about it makes it worse. You have to realize you’re not alone.”

Flashes of Paige’s face constricted her heart. Despite her best attempts to remain impassive, she felt a lump of sorrow well in the back of her throat, eyes prickling with tears.

“Unless you’re incredibly simple, I am alone _.”_

A spike of unhelpful indignance took hold of her. “What am I? Invisible? I don’t see anyone else around here giving you the time of day.” He could at least be grateful they hadn’t stuck him in solitary confinement for a month.

They weren’t like the Order, but that meant having to actually face your feelings. That was the trade-off. 

He made a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I’m sure you’re only the first in an endless wave of idealists the Resistance will throw my way in an attempt to gain my confidence. Tiresome. When am I going to have an audience with General Organa?”

There was a beat of tense, pregnant silence.

“She’s dead.” Rose’s voice was flat; dangerous. “She died trying to save Ben.”

Hux was actually surprised. He hadn’t expected that. After so long, he’d started wondering if that woman wasn't damn near immortal.

He glanced up and saw tears in Rose’s eyes, one of her hands gripping the metal bars with white, trembling knuckles. He was taken aback by a stab of reluctance. It was the same hand that had touched his; fed him water. Well, she’d only done so because he was useful to them, hadn’t she? That’s why she was here, after all, because she’d been ordered to gain his trust. The Resistance and their unwaveringly transparent motives. 

“Sorry to disappoint you,” she said at length, “but Leia left Poe in charge. Even if you think I’m lying, I _am_ sorry he hurt you yesterday. It was uncalled for. He was being an ass.”

“Is that not his natural state of being?” Hux mumbled, looking away.

Rose snorted, wiping her eyes. That was sort of funny, she had to admit. “Well, I won’t deny he can be a lot to deal with sometimes. You’ve just never seen another side of him. Everyone has different sides. Yourself included.”

He frowned, regarding her. “Me?”

“Yeah.” She shrugged, trying to school her expression into something flat and clinical. “I liked you better when you were just text on a screen, for instance. At least then I could pretend you were a good person.”

Such honesty. He wasn’t ready for it, so it cut, deep.

“You shouldn’t,” he said thickly.

“You’re right.”

They were silent after that. He could hear her sniffling, and it made him irrationally angry. Didn’t she know it was weak to show such naked emotion? It gave your enemies a distinctive strategic advantage. Another obvious failing in the Resistance’s methods.

If their methods are so defective, an intrusive thought snagged at him, then how did they defeat such a fine machine as the First Order?

Luck, he told himself, but for some reason it rang hollow.

He was unwilling to acknowledge her again, and so it was obvious their conversation was over. Eventually, Rose’s hand slipped from the bars and she retreated from his cell.

Hux sat against the wall for hours more, replaying the events of the last few days over in his head until his bones ached from stiffness. He groaned upon standing.

Shifting to the slab stone bed, he wrapped the small blanket around himself, lying to stare at the ceiling. Which looked… exactly like the stone wall. Hux sighed, rubbing his eyes.

_At least then I could pretend you were a good person._

Unwise, that. Since he wasn’t.

When he did finally drift to sleep, after hours more of familiar insomnia, it was only to dream again. A memory, distorted by those tricks that dreams could play.

Hux was a child, except he wasn’t. He was hiding behind a door, listening to his father and Admiral Sloan on Arkanis, except he wasn’t. He was listening to their meeting on the _Ravager,_ after the evacuation.

 _“Armitage is a weak-willed boy,”_ he heard his father say. _“Thin as a slip of paper and just as useless.”_

The portly man laughed, nervous.

Hot rage and shame consumed Hux as he held himself, nails digging into the upper sleeves of his Officer’s uniform.

Tears fell, except it was water from a broken glass, and he was commanded to lick it from the floor.

* * *

The next day found Rose walking towards the stockades with determined strides. 

With a with a new day came renewed determination.

This was her _job_. Her responsibility. She wasn’t going to give up just because their informant turned out to be Hux. He was a cold man, but he wasn’t an idiot. He had the capacity to learn; to grow. If he could prove he deserved it.

She’d tried being sentimental, to connect with him on an emotional level, but that hadn’t gotten her very far. No surprise. She hadn’t really thought he worked that way anyway, but after seeing his reaction to the news about Millicent, she had wanted to try.

But no, he didn’t trust them. Not enough to be honest with her concerning something so personal. Any why would he? He was still working under the impression that they were his enemy. And while he wasn’t exactly their ally, the war was effectively over.

He could learn to trust people, she knew it, and maybe he could see why the Empire had been wrong about the Republic

So, what could reach him?

How did she think the Order would treat an informant, if the roles were reversed?

How could she prove to him they were different?

“I brought you something.”

He glanced over from where he was lying on the pallet, one knee bent, hands laced and resting on his stomach. He looked surprised to see her. Maybe he’d thought she’d left for good. Sitting up, she watched as he tried to fix his hair by running a hand through it to smooth it down. He must have known by now it was fruitless.

Probably just force of habit, Rose thought.

Before he could say a word, she chucked the parcel through the bars at him. It hit him in the chest, flopping into his lap. He picked it up with two fingers, like it might try and bit him.

“It’s a sandwich, you insufferable—” Rose cut herself off, determined not to break composure. She took a deep, steadying breath. “You can’t survive on ration bars alone.”

He arched an eyebrow at her, but unwrapped the sandwich all the same.

“This too,” Rose added, kneeling down to reach through the bars, rolling an aluminum can across the floor towards him.

Hux stopped it under the toe of his boot, frowning as he bent to pick it up.

“Processed juice?” He pulled a face.

Rose threw up her hands. “What? You want Corellian whiskey or something?”

He placed the can primly at his side. If she was going to indulge in bribery, he could at least ask for something he’d actually enjoy. “You wouldn’t happen to have… tea, would you?”

Rose laughed at the sheer _nerve_. She couldn’t help herself.

Hux’s head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed.

“Drink the juice for now,” she said, exasperated. “After you’re done, you’ll be coming with me.”

Ah, perhaps this was his last meal, Hux mused. The final straw must have been making her cry about her precious General. He ate in silence, listening to Rose busying with something down the hall from his cell. The sandwich was supremely underwhelming as far as last meals were concerned, but he ate it all the same. It would be a shame for the last thing he ever tasted to be a ration bar.

He finished the food quickly despite its bland taste, crumpling up the wrapping. He left it behind with the unopened juice, taking a few quiet steps toward the cell’s bars.

She was acting… odd, he thought. _Different._ Less formal, which made him suspicious.

What kind of ploy was this?

She hadn’t noticed he’d moved, so when she turned around again, he was _right there_ , pale green eyes staring at her through the durasteel barricade.

“Oh!” She jumped back, hand on her heart.

His eyes widened, startled himself. He tried to sneer at her, but it was obvious her reaction had thrown him, so it came off less withering then he would have liked.

Rose shook her head, trying to clearing it and calm her suddenly racing heart. She glared at him and pointed. “Step back.” When he took exactly one step backwards, she rolled her eyes and growled, “All the way, you infuriating man.”

Hux tamped down a smirk, retreating to the back of the cell as she took out the datachip to unlocked the cell. He noticed then the blaster at her side, which she unholstered before opening the door.

“Let’s go,” she said.

He did as he was bid and without protest, much to Rose’s relief. She didn’t know if she could go toe-to-toe with his vitriol day in and day out without losing her mind, her temper, or both.

“Alright, hands up. Start walking.” She felt braver with the blaster trained on back. He was… tall. Almost a foot taller than she was. Thin, too. The only thing making him look imposingly broad was the particular way in which his jacket was cut at the shoulders, and how stiff his posture was. She wondered absently if she could take him in a fight.

“Wait!” She suddenly realized he was taking the hallway that lead outside, pulling her from her daydream.

He stopped without turning.

“Not that way. Go to the left.”

He hesitated, but obeyed.

Her words confused him. What were they going to do, he wondered, shoot him _inside?_ What a mess that would be. They passed the door to the latrine they’d been letting him use, continuing on. Towards the back of the hallway, illuminated by the overhead lightbulbs, the traitor came into view, holding a blaster of his own and standing in front of a door.

“He give you any trouble?” Finn asked Rose.

“You mean besides his general attitude?” Rose huffed. “No, it’s fine.”

Hands still raised slightly in the air, Hux turned his head slowly to look at her. “What am I doing here?”

“It’s the showers,” Finn answered, which irked him. He hadn’t been _asking_ FN-2187.

“We’ve got a change of clothes for you too, for when you’re done,” Rose added. At his wholly baffled expression, she added, “Your uniform is _completely_ trashed. What did you think, that we’re going to make you live in it?” She scoffed. “We’re not cruel.”

The implication there was meant to be obvious.

Hux could feel heat crawling up his neck. He just stood there, arms raised lamely, looking at the door in front of him.

After a long pause, Finn leaned in with a worried look at Rose. “Did he hear what we said?”

“I heard you perfectly fine,” Hux snapped. He’d heard all right, he just wasn’t sure if he was ready for the humiliation. Maybe if he didn’t move, it wouldn’t happen.

Something pushed against the small of his back; it felt suspiciously like the round end of a blaster.

“Come on,” Rose groaned. “I have other things to do besides babysit you all day.”

He moved forward, if only to get her to stop touching him. FN-2187 opened the door, and Hux stepped through. The room beyond was dimly lit, but the wide folding windows along the top of the outside wall let in a bit more light. There were rows of shower stalls, each separated by chest-high barriers. It reminded him of his training days on the _Absolution_ , which… did not improve his mood.

He was about to turn around, close the door behind him, but FN-2187 stepped through the threshold before Hux could stop him.

“Excuse me?”

Finn looked confused, keeping his blaster level as Rose closed the door from out in the hall. “For what?”

Hux pressed his lips together, his patience fraying. “I mean _excuse me,_ what the hell are you doing? Am I not afforded a bit of privacy?”

The other man snorted. “Uh, _no.”_ Hux’s expression was venomous. “See those windows up there?” Finn motioned with the barrel of his blaster. “How do we know you won’t be able to wriggle your way to freedom? Someone has to watch you. You don’t want it to be Rose, do you?”

Hux paled so quickly he actually felt dizzy.

“I— I reason this is the preferable option,” he mumbled.

“Yeah, yeah. Just hurry it up, will you?”

Hux eyed the small chair off to the side. Piled there was a towel and what had to be his new prison uniform. He glanced back at Finn with a pointed look as he pulled off his boots. The man rolled his eyes, but turned slightly, staring with an annoyed expression at the wall.

_“Look at him! Scrawny like a little girl!”_

Hux fumbled with the buttons on his coat, biting the inside of his lip. He tried to block out the memories of his youth, but they thundered in his head.

He shrugged out of his jacket, stiff with grime and blood. Before laying it aside, he ran a finger over the grey band that had denoted his rank. _General_ Armitage Hux. _That_ man hadn’t been _weak-willed._ A contemptible cur, yes, but one with rank and power.

He swallowed, throat tight, and folded the jacket with solemn reverence, as one might fold a flag upon the casket of a dead man.

The ruined shirt went next, the fabric pulling over the skin of his shoulders uncomfortably as he let it fall off his arms.

_“What are **those** , Armitage? Hickies?”_

_“No way! They’re burns. They gotta be!”_

_“What?” A laugh. “You break another one of daddy’s holopads?”_

Goosebumps prickled over his pale skin as he shucked off his black slacks and underthings. Shivering slightly, he thought he must look even more gaunt than before, shoulders pulled forward to try and keep in the rapidly dissipating body heat. He hoped the adhesive bandages were waterproof.

_“Oiy, Armitage! Ever see what happens when you roll up a towel real, real tight?”_

Turning to the shower, he was surprised to see it was one of those running water models. There must have been a wellspring somewhere near the camp. He depressed the button under the spigot, letting out a high-pitched yelp as a jet of cold water hit him in the chest. He jumped out of the way, sucking in a shuttering breath, water splattering onto the stone floor. He could hear FN-2187 let out a snort of laughter.

Hux shook, but from cold or from rage he could not tell.

With a hiss, he stepped back under the spout, trying to keep his teeth from chattering. Along the wall was a small dispenser. The soap was watery and didn’t lather well, but he used it all the same, even on his hair.

He watched as the dirty water swirled down the floor drain. Years of work— decades— just… slipping away. His authority, his pride, his… cat. Draining through his fingers.

Who had he been fooling, entertaining the idea that he could he could steal away from the Resistance and reclaim control of the Order? They were never going to leave him unguarded. This was his life now.

He was surprised at how dull the pain was, finally acknowledging that his father had been right about him all along.

“Hey, I’ve been meaning to say thanks.”

Hux froze, reeling. Was… was the traitor _talking_ to him? Talking to him while he was in— in the shower? Was this _actually_ hell?

“For saving us back there, I mean. On the _Steadfast_.” Finn was angled away, so he couldn’t see the expression of pure violence the other man was giving him. “Sorry it got you, you know. Shot. Uh. _More_ shot.”

Hux had to physically make his hands unclench themselves.

“So,” Finn cleared his throat. It was obvious this was hard for him, giving any kind of credit to a man like Hux. “Yeah. Thanks for that. Really saved our—”

“If I tell you ‘you’re welcome’ will you Please. Stop. Talking.”

Finn shifted his feet, but fell blessedly silent, and Hux went back to rinsing the poor-quality soap out of his hair.

By the time he was done, he supposed his lips were probably blue.

He dried himself in silence, unfolding the black underthings and trousers they’d given him. They fit well, unlike the dark-grey long-sleeve jumper that was about half a size too big. He ended up folding the cuffs back. In the mirror, cracked and peeling from years of neglect and moisture, he attempted to press his hair into something manageable now that it was damp. It worked, to a degree. Not optimal, but at least no longer streaked with blood and grease. The short stubble along his jaw was another issue. He doubted they’d let him use a razor.

At Hux’s weary sigh, Finn cleared his throat.

“Done?”

He slipped on his boots. “I suppose so.”

At least the probability of his execution had dropped significantly, he thought. If they were going to shoot him, he doubted they’d allow him the use of fresh water.

Out in the hall, they ran into Rose, who was still standing where they’d left her, only now holding a thick stack of folded blankets. She glanced over. The look on her face; she almost didn’t recognize him for a moment.

It made him uncomfortable, so as to distract them both, he sneered. “I don’t suppose the Resistance has ever heard of _hot water_ before?”

His words did not have the intended effect. She laughed. He glared at her.

“Here,” she said instead, shoving the bolts of cloth into his chest.

Hux grabbed at them at the last moment. “What are these for?”

“For _you_.” Her insinuation that he was simple only increased his displeasure. “We’re not moving you into the barracks, for obvious reasons, but sleeping on a stone bed can’t be comfortable, so I brought you these.”

He looked down at the thick blankets he was now holding.

He hadn’t even given them any actionable information, and yet she was allowing him creature comforts? What was she playing at? He tried to think of what underhanded goal she had in mind, but there were either too many angles or not a single one. He wasn't sure which option frustrated him more.

* * *

That evening, Rose pulled up a chair outside the cell but didn’t immediately sit. They’d deposited Hux back to his cell mid-morning, and then she had to go do parts of her _other_ job, and now her back was aching. A lot of the ships that had returned from the battle of Exegol had damage that needed looking after. It was a busy time to say the least. Until their fleet was well enough to be on their way, the forest base would be their home for at least the next few weeks at minimum.

Setting down her shoulder bag, she used the back of the chair to twist and stretch. “Are you up for another round of questions?”

His voice echoed out from the back of the tiny room. “Do I have a choice?”

“No,” she smiled, overly-cheerful, twisting in the opposite direction. “Not really. We made a deal.”

“I’m struggling to see how our bargain still stands with the Order in the state it’s in. Why should help you at all?”

She shrugged, nonchalant. “Maybe it’s not the Order we’ll be protecting you from.” She let the insinuation hang in the air as she reached down and flipped open her bag, extracting a long, cylindrical canteen. “I did bring another peace offering, if it’s any consolation.” She waved a thermos at her prisoner. “Think of it as… an incentive.”

Hux unfolded himself from the stone pallet, which had since been piled with blanket, and approached the cell’s bars with a note of apprehension.

“Don’t worry, it’s not poisoned.” She passed him the container through the bars, making a face. “Although it certainly tastes like it.”

“Splendid. You’re doing a fine job selling the fact that it’s potable.”

“Could be worse,” she quipped, taking a seat in the chair. “Could be canned juice.” She watched Hux unscrew the lid of the thermos, sniffing at the steam that was released, before taking a tentative sip.

He made a face too. “What is it?”

Rose blinked, nonplused. “It’s tea.”

“Is it really?” He deadpanned.

She was about to say something waspish, but then she caught the way his green eyes were looking at her. There was an element of mirth there, peeking through the strands of ginger hair that had fallen out of place since his shower. He was being impudent, sure, but he was also trying to be funny. Dry, but funny.

It struck Rose in a weird way, in an uneasy feeling that swam just above her navel. He should be red faced and screaming at her, like the rabid dog on the holo at Starkiller. He should be deriding her, relishing in his power like on the deck of the _Supremacy_. This otherness of him, the tiny slivers of humanity that peeked through— humor, grief— they sent her off kilter. How could a murder of almost unimaginable magnitude be standing there, in a too-big sweater, griping about tea?

His brows pulled together as he caught her expression.

“Why did you let me keep my pendant?” She asked suddenly, hand having strayed to her medallion without really thinking.

He frowned. “ _That’s_ your question?”

“Er—” Rose flushed, scratching the back of her neck absently. “I… yeah. Yeah, it is.”

His eyes narrowed at her, trying to read between the lines and pick up on what she _really_ wanted. He took another sip of tea; more time to think.

It had been a show of power, surely, he thought. A way to remind her that he could give as well as take away. That she was at his mercy even as he sentenced her to die. But there was something else, too. He had nothing from his time on Arkanis, for better or for worse. If he were being honest with himself, he had little of his childhood, his past, other than bad memories and a few scars.

He took a small breath. “It would have been dishonorable, as a soldier, to let you die without it,” he said at length.

She gave him a sad look, sniffing. He shifted uncomfortably, moving away so he could sit down.

“Not a satisfactory answer?” He asked when she was silent.

“No, that’s not it. My sister had the other half. I was just… thinking… about her.”

He swirled the liquid in the thermos, watching it go round and round. “You would be from Hays Minor, I suspect.”

She nodded, staring at the ceiling to gather herself. “Yeah…”

“You can count that as my question, if you’d like,” he muttered, watching as the tea slowed into a lazy eddy.

Rose could hear her heartbeat loud in her ears.

Almost as if it were someone else, she heard herself say, “My sister was the bomber who destroyed your Dreadnought.” Surprise flashed over Hux’s face. “Her name was Paige, and she died a hero trying to stop you. She was the bravest person I’ve ever known.”

Brave and foolish, Hux thought, a combination which killed most Resistance fighters in the end, but saying such things would no doubt upset her. And then she would leave. And he would be alone again. And even though it pained him to admit it, she’d been right the other day. Being alone with his thoughts was agony; he kept imagining a small orange cat suddenly bounding across the floor.

A stab of guilt made him wince as he stared down into the thermos. The memories of that day with the Dreadnought were safer; the terror of his failure, the sharp pain as his lip split open on the floor of the command deck.

So, that had been her sister, had it?

“Look at where the Order now sits,” he said in a careful voice, “it’s neck upon on the edge of a knife, if not run through already. Do you think your sister would take back her actions?”

That day had been a strategic victory for the Resistance. He was not so blind as to be unable to recognize the importance of the Tico sister’s actions, even if she were his enemy.

“No.” Rose’s eyes were fierce. This woman, who had fed him water and brought him blankets, who stared at him defiantly when she’d been mere moments from death. When she said no, he believed her.

“I’m not looking for an apology. Or your pity,” Rose said into the silence between them. “I’m not going to sit here and hold my breath until you tell me you’re sorry for her death. I don’t need that from you.” She surprised herself with how true those words felt. “I don’t think I’d believe you anyway.”

Good, Hux thought. He did take her as exceptionally perceptive.

Rose let out a shaky sigh. “I just… wanted you to know her name. So she’s real. So she’s not just a criminal to you. Or vermin. She was just my sister. Paige.”

He’d almost forgotten he’d called her that. Vermin. After she’d bit him, the memory of what came before had gone a bit fuzzy. “Stealing your enemy’s humanity,” he said matter-of-factly, “is what makes killing people easier.”

It wasn’t an excuse. It was simply the truth. And maybe if the Resistance adopted such tactics, they’re members wouldn’t end up so unprofessionally sentimental.

Well… unprofessional or not, it certainly hadn’t stopped them from besting his army.

“And now you’re helping us. The very people you called vermin.”

The implication there was clear. In labeling them as such, didn’t that now place him in the same category as those he had derided? Wasn’t he, in turn, vermin?

A rat that had fled a sinking ship?

“Yes,” he said. “The irony is not lost on me. I’m sure they think it’s quite funny.”

Rose frowned. “They? They who?”

His mouth opened to respond, but he closed it again. He’d been thinking of quite a number of people, but—

“I don’t think it’s funny,” she said.

“Well, you’d be better than most.” He took a large mouthful of tea, relishing in the way the hot liquid nearly scalded his mouth. Rose glanced down to fiddle with the datapad in her lap, and once again he was caught by the light that glinted off her medallion. Before she could open her mouth to speak—

“You told me you knew how I was feeling before,” Hux muttered, almost to himself. “I gather now you meant your sister.”

Rose lowered the datapad back into her lap. “I did.”

A tight, terrible feeling had burrowed its way into the center of his chest.

This was it, Rose thought. Her opening.

“You loved Millicent, didn’t you?” She needed to know. Needed to know he was capable of something other than hate and ire.

His brow furrowed. That cat was perhaps the only living thing that had never seemed to be waiting for him to fail. And now she was gone. Because of him.

He didn’t say the words, but Rose watched as his shoulders pulled inward, like grief was pushing down on him, and she felt some kind of thrill. Vindication? She wasn’t sure if it were out of compassion or something vindictive, maybe both, but she wanted to push him.

“It’s like losing a part of yourself, isn’t it?” Her eyes closed briefly, thinking back to the first few days and weeks of Paige’s absence. She held a hand to her pendant. "You think, how can I still be here, enjoying anything—eating, sleeping, _breathing—_ when _they’re_ _gone_. You go over everything in your mind, trying to think of what could have been changed, what you could have done different.” He looked like he was trying very hard to not listen to her words. “You think they’re just going to walk through the door, like they never left.”

Something in his expression broke.

“I left her there.” His tone was puzzled, as if he were trying to work out what the words meant. He’d saved his own skin. Just like his father had done. The realization felt like the blaster to the chest all over again.

Rose gave him a sad smile. “I’m sorry. I’m sure she would have forgiven you.”

He looked up at her then, and the naked vulnerability in his gaze struck her sideways. He was in pain, and pleading with her to stop.

She swallowed. Had she pushed too far?

“That’s—” His voice broke off, and he had to clear his throat, eyes blinking rapidly. “That’s quite enough, Miss Tico.” His voice was softest she’d ever heard from him. “Perhaps we’ve gotten a little off track. You must have more relevant inquires.”

“I— I came up with a few questions last night. About which First Order installations would recommend we attack first in the Unknown Regions.”

Focus, he demanded of himself, licking his lips and sipping the tea again. The truly terrible taste seemed to ground him. He took a breath that shuddered, despite his best efforts. “You would do well to strike against the shipyards above Fondor. It houses our highest concentration of starships. If you’ve crippled the fleet so completely, they will be overtaxed in trying to build new Destroyers.”

Rose took notes on her datapad. “I can assume, of course, that you’re telling me the truth?”

“There are few reasons why I would mislead you. It is obvious the Order’s back is broken. Why should I throw myself on the pyre just to save some burning wreckage?”

It should have been you leading the Order _,_ a voice in his head said with disturbing clarity.

He just _had_ to jump ship before seeing how things played out.

_I will outlive you all._

On the other hand, there could be fragments of him scattered all over Exegol right now…

Which would be better? Alive and a traitor? Or dead, pride intact?

“So, you’re only loyal to yourself in the end, is that it? You _really_ don’t care about the Order?”

 _“Of course I care about the Order!”_ He snapped, pain and rage finally bubbling to the surface. “The ‘ _Supreme Leaders’_ and their _infuriatingly_ misguided Force-magic nonsense, leading us to ruin. We were supposed to bring _order_ to the universe, be the iron hand that _saved_ he galaxy, not chasing ghosts. Not gallivanting off to some old wizard’s castle.” The wound in his chest, still in the process of healing, ached dully. He pushed a hand through his hair, breathing hard. He’d been careless, admittedly. He should have poisoned Pryde’s morning caf as soon as Ren promoted him.

Now he _did_ wish he had some Corellian whiskey…

“You really think the First Order was _saving_ the Galaxy?” She clearly didn’t believe him.

“The Empire saved the galaxy from the chaos of the Clone Wars.” He said it like it were obvious. “The Order was doing the same; from the listless, ineffective Republic.”

Rose shook her head, trying to make sense of his words. Such distortion. He really was delusional after all, she thought.

“It matters little now,” Hux drank from the thermos. “I was right, in the end. Ren and his ambition drove us into the ground. And look, my reward for being correct.” He gestured lazily around the cell.

“At least you’re alive,” Rose whispered.

“Oh yes. A toast to my incarceration. And to a galaxy, which, as your most _irritating_ General has kindly pointed out, would like me dead. I’m immensely grateful.”

Rose snorted despite herself, running a hand over her face and groaning in exasperation.

 _“What.”_ He snapped, self-conscious.

She shook her head with a sad smile. “I don’t think I ever expected you to be so dramatic. Ruthless, merciless, an obsessive zealot; yes. The black humor’s a surprise, quite honestly.”

“Was that supposed to be some sort of compliment?”

Rose didn’t miss a beat. “Would you like it to be?”

At soon as the words left her mouth her stomach did a sort of flip-flop. What the hell was she thinking? She’d got caught up in their conversation; forgot herself. Forgot who she was talking to.

He didn’t answer right away, but stood, walking toward the cell door. Rose followed him with her eyes, the way his thin frame barely filled out the pullover she’d found him. His gaze was bright, too; sharp and appraising despite deep, dark circles of sleep deprivation.

She glanced at the empty thermos he was attempting to pass her through the bars, and took it.

“I would caution you in complimenting a monster such as myself,” he said, before retreating back to his pallet. “Your friends would think less of you.”

* * *

Curled in her bunk that night, Rose held her medallion and replayed the day over in her head.

_“I left her there.”_

That look in his eyes. Her words had truly tore him to the bone. She’d only been speaking the truth. Honestly, she’d expected some kind of First Order rationalizing on his part to explain away his feelings. Not… that.

It was just a cat after all, but it was quite obvious by now that he'd bonded to it fiercely.

She rolled over, trying to get comfortable, wrapping the blanket tighter around her body.

After hearing about the _Finalizer,_ the only thing that had really set him off was news about Millicent. Even Poe had misread the situation, thought it had been a woman Hux had been seeing, but there was no woman. There was no one.

And that was it, wasn’t it? He simply didn’t have anyone else.

The realization felt heavy and hollow in the pit of her stomach.

She wondered if he had any family. Rose knew the stories of how the First Order came to be. She’d heard of his father and knew that he’d died some years ago. Was there really no one else?

Hux had been a top General, so it wasn’t unreasonable to assume that he couldn’t socialize with the troopers. He was quite the stickler for regulation, so she was sure he wouldn’t have snuck around to play sabacc with Officers of lower rank. And knowing the First Order, it was cutthroat enough that he probably couldn’t trust those in the upper-ranks either. Pryde had shot him, after all.

What a miserable existence, she thought. The whole First Order, over ten million people at its zenith, and he’d had no one but a cat.

How lonely.

She’d been trying to wrap her head around just what made Hux the way he was.

Brainwashing and isolation? Fear and misconception? All hate came from somewhere.

Could there be something even deeper? Darker?

But Rose knew plenty of people who went through hell and didn’t turn out to be mass murderers. Finn, for example.

When Hux arrived, Rose had tried to think of what the Order would do to a Resistance prisoner, and then vowed to do _the opposite._ She’d tried to think of what they could give him; what kinds of comforts and gestures of good will— within reason— would gain his trust. Leia wouldn’t have been content with just wringing out any useful information; it was about the person. What could make Hux trust them enough so that he could understand how wrong his actions had been?

She’d thought they could offer _things:_ blankets, tea, real food, fresh clothes…

Was the answer even simpler than she’d thought?

Just… ease his loneliness?

Her stomach rolled unpleasantly.

The thought of willingly befriending someone who’d done such terrible things made her sick. But in there was a kind of power… wasn’t there? Hux had been the architect of all that had taken away so much, but he hadn’t been able to take away what made her _her._

Rose knew, despite everything she’d seen and suffered through, that she could still love, make friends, laugh at Finn’s stupid jokes and cry during episodes of her favorite holodrama. She could understand when she was wrong and endeavored to do better. She could still empathize with Connix’s complaints about the food in the canteen and marvel with wonder at all of Rey’s new fearsome powers.

Hux and all his machinations hadn’t been able to take away what made her human.

_“Stealing your enemy’s humanity is what makes killing people easier.”_

So, who had taken his? Or was it just buried so deep that he’d forgotten it had ever existed at all?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Researching Hux's childhood is a terrible pastime. Do not recommend.
> 
> Also, please take note that there will be smut towards the end of this story and that the rating will bump up once we get there.


	5. Chapter 5

For the next few mornings, Rose decided to skip out on questioning Hux straight away, offering to help with repairs instead. It was her _actual_ job, after all, and she was beginning to feel she was neglecting it.

And… she needed space. Time to think. Engines didn’t talk back or make her question the boundaries of her own compassion. They didn’t unnerve her or push past her defenses. The gears and guts of starships were easier to wrap her head around, and she was grateful for the hours of diversion they’d provided.

Despite this little pep-talk, and the determination she’d seen staring back at her in the mirror that morning, her thoughts did tend to wander.

Elbows-deep in an engine compartment found her replaying the most recent conversation she’d had with Hux for what must have been the tenth time since that tense, emotional evening. The contrast between the looks he’d given her; the dancing mirth while teasing her about tea and then the naked agony as she raked his grief between them.

She knew she’d been peeling him apart, taking hold of the bits he let slip and flaying him open along the lines of his pain. She was enthralled by it, by him, which also made her feel a little sorry for what she’d done. It certainly wasn’t fun for him, but she found a strange satisfaction in taking the destruction he’d caused and making him look at it.

It was cruel, wasn’t it? Vindictive? Did it make her a bad person? Or was she simply allowing him to see her side of the coin?

Still, she couldn’t help herself; he was endlessly fascinating, like some alien starship she’d been given, which she could sink her fingers in just to see how it all ticked. Illuminating and addictive.

She was losing it, wasn’t she?

“Uh, Lieutenant General? Ma’am?”

A voice, young, drew her out of her musings. Using part of the engine compartment as leverage, Rose pivoted around to see one of the younger engineers.

“Yes?”

He looked nervous. “I was told you could help me with some shield recirculators that need tweaking?” 

Couldn’t he see she was up to her ears in engine grease? “Who told you that?”

“Commander D’Acy thought you’d have a little extra time.”

Rose tried hard not to roll her eyes. Since _when?_

“What time is it now?”

The engineer, a kid really, looked at his chronometer. “Almost noon, ma’am.”

Damn it, Rose thought. She was supposed to be working on servos already. Not to mention, Poe had recently told her that they were taking a real look at Hux’s suggestion about the shipyards above Fondor, and that she needed to get a bit more info out of him as soon as possible.

“I’ll take a look at it a little later, alright? What’s it for, anyway?”

"The Commander said she wants shield frequencies coordinated between all the new squadrons.”

"New squadrons?"

“The— uh— new allied ships that came back from Exogol?”

That’s right. Rose remembered now. They had quite an array of different starfighter classes now to contend with. D'Acy must have been gearing up for another that coordinated attack, probably the one Poe’d mentioned; capitalize on their recent victory and hit what remained of the Order before they could regroup.

“Tell the Commander I’ll have some time later this afternoon or evening.” She didn’t need sleep, right?

The kid gave her a sloppy salute before rushing back off to another part of the hanger bay.

Extracting herself from the starship, she shelved the rebuild for the moment, using the rag tied onto her belt to wipe the grease from her hands and arms. She had to get working on those servos or the X-wings were going to be completely useless.

_And_ she’d have to speak with Hux too…

She only felt a little guilty that she kind of enjoyed their conversations; the back-and-forth. She felt more guilty about wanting to ignore her other work in leu of interviewing with him again.

“I can’t just ignore these…” she muttered, moving to the crate full of servos over on the workbench.

She _could_ assign someone else to question Hux. She’d had a few of her trusted subordinates take him food when she was busy, but they’d told her he wouldn’t even acknowledge them. Would he even consider talking to anyone else? She winced. Maybe that was a little _too_ self-aggrandizing. She did feel like she was making progress with him. He just required constant attention and a whole load of patience.

Too bad she couldn’t clone herself to do her engineering work _and_ talk to Hux.

A wonderous expression came over her face.

But… what if she didn’t have to choose?

Within the hour, she was back at his cell, making Hux jump as she dropped her crate onto the small warden’s table, dragging it over from the far end of the hallway to in front of his chamber. She tried to ignore the guilty excitement of speaking with him again.

At all the commotion, she heard him sigh and grumble. “What fresh hell am I being subjected to now?”

“My _other_ job. I can’t clone myself, can I?” She dumped the components out on the table, dropping the crate to the floor.

“I… suppose not?” His face scrunched in confusion. He tried to lean out from where he sat to see what she was doing, but he was rather far back from bars. “Will you to be asking me any questions today, or have you simply come to aggravate the monotony of my current situation?”

She snorted, turning the servo over in her hand. “Maybe. Why? Bored?”

“Immensely,” he admitted, tapping the toe of his boot.

“You can’t be given a datapad, you know that.”

He grunted in accent, drumming his fingers on his thigh and absently scratching at his chin, the short stubble more than a little bit irritating. Honestly, he just wanted _something_ to do. And… he enjoyed their banter. It was a relief, after constant solitude, to speak with _someone_. A more preferable someone.

She took the multi-spanner from her belt and went to work tightening up a few loose brackets. “Actually, I did want to ask a few more questions about the Order’s build sites near Fondor.” She connected her datapad to the component to adjust some of the internal settings.

“Forgo your inquires for now and I’ll offer my assistance instead.” His voice was temperate and close, making her jump in surprise. Rose whipped her head around in his direction and saw that he’d crept toward the bars with silent footfalls. He was quite good at that, she thought. Hands clasped behind his back, he stared at the component in her hand, gaze flicking up to lock with her’s; intense. 

She eyed him. “Tempting offer…” He did look miserably bored, and she _could_ have this done in half the time… “Do you know how to calibrate servos?”

“Be more precise,” he clipped, almost admonishing. His arms dropped to his sides. “Those are S-foil servos. For X-wing actuators.”

She blinked at him in surprise. “Yes, they are. How did you know?”

“I was always more technically inclined than otherwise.” He tried to pull on the cuffs of his gloves, only to realize that he wasn’t wearing any. She stifled a smile. He frowned. “I’m quite capable of programing, let alone tightening screws.”

She looked at the table, then back at him. “I said no datapad.”

“Fine,” he ground out, losing a bit of his patience. _“I’ll_ use the damned multi-spanner, _you_ use the datapad.”

Rose snorted, tweaking another bracket. “Not with that attitude.”

A growl forced its way out of his chest. She laughed, a closed-mouth chuckle at his fuming. He was so wound up! But, he had so far been a rather cooperative prisoner. Maybe she could allow him a little reprieve.

“Don’t be so dramatic. _Maybe_ you can help me. But you have to stay in your cell.”

He glowered, motioning around the sparse room. “Am I supposed to work _on the_ _floor?”_

It was pretty empty in there, she had to admit.

Rose stood slowly, and kept her eyes on him while she unlocked the cell door, as if her scrutiny itself would pin him to his spot. It seemed to work to some degree. His pale green gaze followed her, but he did not move. Perhaps he was trying to show her that he didn’t want to make trouble.

Rose kicked in the now empty crate and slammed the door closed again, locking it promptly.

Hux seemed annoyed at her over-cautious attitude, but kept his mouth shut. After a moment’s hesitation, he retrieved the small box, upturning it near the bars. It was the tiniest of makeshift chairs, and made his knees bend at an odd angle when he sat, but it was better than nothing. He scooted over, leaning his back against the wall.

“Fine,” he drawled. “Now I have a box. I suppose you think I should be grateful.”

“Wow, you _are_ perceptive.”

He sneered at her, but to his surprise, she extended her hands toward the bars, and he reached out to take the spanner and the servo she presented to him. The bars were close together, so he had to rotate his wrist to get a grip, and in doing so, his fingers closed over her hand. She was warm, the back of her palm much smoother than the pads of her fingers, rough from engineering work. She didn’t say a word, and he didn’t look at her, hoping she hadn’t noticed his hesitation.

Their accord was tracking toward something genial, he realized with mild surprise. Less jailer and captive; spy and handler. She was speaking with him now like he were an ally. Well, maybe not quite that friendly, but certainly less contentious. He wondered; did she realize she was doing it? Or was it just natural for her?

No, he thought, turning his attention to the servo in his lap. She was working him over for information, not because she wanted to be there. He was responsible for much of her, her friend’s, and the galaxy’s misery. That kindness she was showing him had purpose. She wanted something from him, like everyone else had in his life.

Such thoughts made him gloomy, but he was able to lose himself in the mechanical task she’d given him. Something to focus on other than the four walls around him.

As they worked, Rose kept shooting stealthy glances in his direction. He seemed very attentive, face impassive except for a small crease between his brows from concentration. She noticed a shadow forming where it was clear he normally shaved. Like this, in civilian’s clothes and looking just a degree or two off from normal, she could almost squint and see the person Hux could have been if he hadn’t been born into the remnants of the Empire.

She tried to picture him tooling over parts in a workshop, drinking tea with an orange cat sleeping in his lap. It wasn’t a memory, she’d just made it up after all, but there was a weird feeling of fondness at the thought.

He was easy.

Free.

And she’d barter bits of scavenged ships components for his work on receiver relays and the for the enjoyment of company.

“Miss Tico. _Really.”_

She blinked at the datapad in her hands, realizing he was speaking to her.

“Huh?”

He rattled the servos he’d thrust through the bars at her, a muscle in his jaw jumping in annoyance

Rose looked sheepish, “Sorry,” and took the part to hooking it up to the datapad. She passed him another one.

Operating in tandem, they finished in no time at all, and in the quiet routine they’d established, Rose forgot all about her intentions of questioning him.

“Yes!” Her hand pumped into the air when they were done. “This is great! You’re pretty good at this, Hux.”

He swallowed, feeling the tips of his ears go warm. “Childs play,” he muttered.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t difficult, but it was going to take me a while. Maybe now I’ll actually get some sleep tonight.”

She saw Hux open his mouth to ask a question when the door down the hall swung open.

“What’s all this racket?” They both looked up to see the Twi’lek, Therissa, ambling towards them.

“Just finishing up a little work,” Rose said, gathering the servos into a pile.

“Is that all,” the woman replied evenly, looking at Hux.

It was then that he realized he was still holding the spanner, the long, sharp, screwdriver end still extended. Rose noticed too, but was caught as the old woman’s gaze rounded over to her next. The woman didn’t look mad, just intense. Like she was staring straight through Rose’s tight smile to whatever lay underneath. 

“Yep,” Rose said quickly, reaching through the bars and snatching the spanner from his hand. “What can we do for you?”

“I’m here to take a look at _his_ injuries.” She pointed a boney finger at Hux. “I’d say he’s ready for the bandages to come off.”

Hux stood, leaving his little stool to sit against the far wall on his pallet. Rose let the woman into the cell, locking the door behind her.

Therissa shuffled toward him. “Alright young man. Shirt. Off.”

Hux blanched. Over the woman’s shoulder, Rose still hadn’t stacked up but less than half the servos.

“Surely this can… wait. A few minutes.”

With a surprisingly swift arm, she rapped him over the forehead with her cylindrical medical tool.

He jumped with a shrill, “Ouch!”

“Don’t _test_ me.”

Burning with shame, he rolled up the bottom of his jumper. Apparently though, he wasn’t going fast enough. The woman grabbed the hem and yanked it upward, all the way to his collarbone. He let out an undignified yelp and tried to pull it down. Therissa only struck him in the forehead again, her grip quite strong.

“No struggling.”

Despite telling herself not to stare, she did, and Rose thought he looked quite like a cat that had resigned itself to a bath. Arms limp at his sides, thoroughly miserable.

Stacking more servos, Rose heard the telltale plastic-y sound of his chest bandage being pulled away. She peered over again, and could see the bruising on his midsection had died down quite considerably, that was good. His chest rose and fell with his breathing, pale skin dotted with freckles. It’s not like he had _zero_ muscle definition. Why was he so skittish?

He certainly had a lot of old wounds though, but she couldn’t really identify what they were, being all the way across the room.

She _could_ see the patch of dark hair that started just above his navel. It trailed down in a line, down towards—

One of the servos slipped from her grasp and clattered to the ground.

_Damn it!_

His gaze snapped from the ceiling over to her, eyes wide.

Rose ducked quickly to grab the errant component, shoving it into her arms.

“Very good,” Therissa said, like she hadn’t noticed a thing. She finally let his shirt drop back down. “Now, pants.” 

_“Madam—!”_

“I’m just going to go!” Rose winced at the sound of her own voice. Her arms weren’t even full but she had to _get out of there_. Leaving the rest of the servos in a messy pile on the table, she kept her eyes looking anywhere but at _him._ She waved her hand in a lame goodbye, “See you later!” and walked _very expediently_ out of the building.

“Don’t stray too far!” Therissa called out after her. “I’m not staying locked in this cell!”

“Damn it,” Rose hissed, reaching the exit but slowing to a stop just outside. She leaned her back against the outside wall, replaying what just happened over and over again in her head. Just what the hell had she been thinking? _Looking_ like that?

“Rose?”

She blinked, the image of Rey coming into focus in front of her. For some reason, seeing the other woman made her blush even harder. Her thoughts were so loud in her head, she wouldn’t be surprised if everyone around her could hear them.

“I’m just waiting,” she blurted, realizing a little too late that Rey hadn’t even asked her a question.

Rey cocked her head to the side. “With a bunch of… servos?”

“I… I was going to take them to the hanger but— I have to let Therissa out when she’s done, so—”

Rey smiled a little. “Do you want me to take them for you?” Without waiting for an answer, she was already scooping the things from Rose’s arms.

“Are you sure?” Rose felt a little bad. “You’re probably really busy.”

“I don’t mind. It’s nice to help out with the ships. I miss it from time to time; getting my hands dirty in an engine compartment.” The woman’s nose scrunched up playfully. Rose sighed, feeling a bit better. “How’s our grumpy informant doing?” Well, Rose _had_ been feeling a bit better…

“Uh, he’s been… helpful? I think? We still have to check up on the information; make sure it’s current. If we could get connected to the First Order holonet I think he’d be able to give us a few more specifics. That way, we could start planning some covert operations. Right now, it’s all still in limbo.”

“I see.” Rey thought for a moment. “And how _is_ he?”

“What, like, how’s Hux in general?”

Rey nodded.

The question took Rose by surprise. No one else, not Finn nor Poe or even Connix, had asked _about_ him.

“He’s annoying. Pompous. Says just the right things to make you feel terrible.” He likes tea, she thought. Hates canned juice. Good with tech. “He thinks the First Order was _saving_ the galaxy. Can you imagine?” She scoffed. “He can get so riled up, but… sometimes he doesn’t seem so angry. Sometimes he just seems sad.”

In the abstract, Rose was confident in how much he despised General Armitage Hux. Every time she pictured him in his crisp Officer’s uniform, standing before Starkiller or onboard a Star Destroyer, she wanted to punch him in the nose. And then… it was a strange sort of whiplash to see him tooling over ships’ parts, thin shoulders hunched and spirit laid low by circumstances of his own making.

The spark of own her sympathy took Rose buy surprise; worried her. She wanted desperately to push it away but it clung, warm in her chest. 

Rey was pensive. “I’d bet the First Order was his whole life. Can’t have been easy.”

“How you grow up’s no excuse. You don’t become a bad person just because your childhood was terrible.”

“True,” Rey agreed. “But then, no one’s ever singularly ‘bad,’ are they?”

Rose shifted her weight from foot to foot. She supposed that were true… Rey would have an idea about such things. She knew she shouldn’t bring it up, but for all the venom that had supposedly flew between Armitage Hux and Kylo Ren, they sort of reminded Rose of each other. “I’m sorry about what happened. On Exegol. With Ky— Ben. I’m _so sorry_ , Rey.”

Rey smiled. She didn’t seem offended in the slightest. “Can I tell you a secret?” Rose nodded, and Rey leaned in to whisper very quietly, “I can feel him. In the Force.”

“Really?” Rose was slack-jawed.

“Mm-hmm. I’ve been making progress trying to reach out to him; speak to him. I think it’s working. So, he’s not really gone. No one’s ever _really_ gone. Luke and Leia knew there was hope for Ben. He made terrible choices in life, but when given the chance, he did the right thing.”

Rose crossed her arms. “And you think that’s what Hux is trying to do? The right thing?” She didn’t really believe that, did she?

Rey shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe _he_ doesn’t even know.”

“He’s helping us to save himself. He thinks that if he gets in our good graces then he won’t be held accountable for all the terribleness he’s caused.”

“He said that?”

“Well…” Rose’s arms loosened. “Not exactly. He made the deal to protect himself. What else could the reason be?”

“I don’t know,” Rey had this far-off look on her face. “All we can do is give him a chance. I get the feeling it’s been a long time since he allowed himself to care about anyone other than himself.”

“Seems impossible,” Rose mumbled. But then, his cat… She had to remind herself that he _was_ capable of loving _something._ Millicent, for one.

“I’ve seen a lot of things in the last few days that I would have sworn were impossible. Not many things seem so impossible anymore.” Rey gave Rose a true smile. “I better be going, looks like you’re needed.”

“What? I don’t hear—”

Therissa’s voice echoed out of the stone building. “Oiy! I’m finished! Now let me out of this bloody cage!”

Rey waggled her eyebrows at Rose, but before Rose could ask just _how_ she’d been able to _do that_ , Rey was off, heading towards the hanger with her arms full of servos.

Rose watched the woman’s retreating back, feeling a little better. Rey’s words hadn’t alleviated all Rose’s worries, but it had somewhat soothed them; that she wasn’t completely wrong in allowing Hux a bit of her hope. The tiny spark of sympathy flickered, dim, but not dying.

* * *

“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Rose said the next time she met with him, lugging a large, briefcase-shaped object into Hux’s view and depositing it onto the table.

He paused in his stretches, something Therissa had insisted he begin now that he was on the mend. He stood, stretching his neck to one side. “Are you asking me to pick which I’d like to hear first?”

“Sure, why not.”

“The latter,” he said, walking over to the little crate by the bars.

“Well, I guess it can be ‘good’ or ‘bad’ depending on your perspective, _but_ , looks like whatever’s left of the First Order is trying to cannibalize itself. They’ve started fighting over their remaining territory. Some of the leaderless platoons have begun experimenting with a bit of piracy, hitting both our ships and some of the Order’s. Smaller factions are being picked off by various system’s militia forces.”

Hux’s heart sank as he lowered himself to sit. This was exactly the kind of chaos the First Order was created to prevent. The pain of seeing how such an organized force could devolve into such petty chaos hurt him truly. Conceptually he knew it was simply the natural selection process cleaning up the weak bits, but… all his work…

Rose sat down in her chair, humming at his expression. “I knew that wouldn’t be easy to hear. It’s good for the Resistance though. If the First Order starts killing each other, it’ll be easier to stop them in the end.”

Hux ran a hand over his face, frustrated. His frown deepened as his fingers grazed the stubble on his chin. He felt hot, angry, like he wanted to throw things. He resisted the urge to smash the crate he was sitting on.

He allowed his hands to ball into tight, white-knuckle fists instead.

“Do tell me the good news,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“This, of course!” She pointed to the black box. “Another project you can help me with.”

Now that he got a good look, he was surprised to see the sleek casing of a TIE’s internal processing computer.

His jaw unclenched. “Where did you get that?”

Rose smiled at him, rife with confidence. “We’ve got a few scavengers in our ranks. Thing is,” she patted the computer like it were a sick animal, “it’s damaged. We’d need to fix it before we can connect it to the First Order holonet; see what’s going on from the inside. Then, we can match up the locations you gave us. Maybe even get some schematics on the bases.”

“And you want _my_ help to fix it?”

“I don’t see anyone else around here with such impeccable First Order credentials, do you?” Her eyebrows jumped, and the corner of his mouth quirked up; he felt his hands relaxing on his knees.

She was excited, he could tell.

“It’s too big to fit through the bars.”

“Thought you’d say that.” Rose reached into the back pocket of her fatigues, extracting a battered looking pair of cuffs. “I came prepared.” She passed them through to him. “Now, one around your ankle and the other around the closest bar. That way I can leave the door open without having to worry about any _funny business_.”

The insinuation in her words made him go slightly pink, but he did as he was told. Anything to fill time; stave off the crippling boredom. That’s what he told himself.

“What am I going to do,” he muttered darkly, “fight my way to some errant starship in the middle of the jungle? I don’t even know what the outside of this base looks like.”

“That’s true,” Rose mused, opening up the cell door once confident he’d secured himself. She set the processor between them.

Her chair was taller than his little perch, so when she bent down to unscrew the protective casing, it meant he could see up into her face as she worked, dark hair falling forward.

It must have been a side effect from lack of human contact, he supposed, that found him studying her face with far more indulgence than he’d allowed with any other person he cared to remember.

There was a smudge of engine grease up near her temple, but she didn’t seem to notice, her mesmerizingly dark eyes focused on the task in front of her. His gaze dipped down over the smooth plain of her cheek, the curve of her lip, and snagged on the flattened-down collar of her work shirt. She’d left the top two buttons undone, revealing the skin of her collarbone. He stopped himself before going further out of sheer internal terror.

_What the hell was he doing?_

He snapped his eyes up to the ceiling, bland masonry a much safer place for him to stare.

She must have noticed him studying the stone rather than the processor.

“Are you seriously not paying attention right now?” She was incredulous. Reluctantly, he returned his gaze. She was sitting very close. He forced himself to look down at the TIE’s internals, Rose having unscrewed the main housing to set it aside.

Ah, yes, he thought, peering at the tech before him. Something he could get his mind around; something firm and unfeeling, unlike the woman sitting before him.

“What seems to be the issue with this unit?” He asked, sounding like he was doing a routine inspection.

“Can’t get the processor to connect to the datapad. It turns on, but it’s like it won’t recognize the signature of the pad’s display.”

“Have you tried tricking the processor into thinking it’s connecting to a First Order terminal?”

“Well yeah, that’s the first thing I did. That’s like, the _easiest_ thing you could try.”

He sat back, appraising her with reservation. She was the head of the Resistance’s Engineering Corps after all, he reminded himself. Such a task was probably quite rudimentary for her.

“Alright…” He moved around a few of the cables, trying to see which ports weren’t fried. This was obviously a reclaimed unit from a crashed fighter. “Unfortunately, I am not as familiar with small-craft internals. I have much more experience dealing with large-scale operating systems.”

“Should be the same basic concept, right? A computer’s a computer. Don’t tell me this is too much for you, Hux.” 

He felt himself grow warm. The _nerve_ of her, teasing _him!_

“Do you want my help or not,” he huffed.

Rose rolled her eyes. “Of course I do.”

Good, he thought with no small amount of satisfaction. “Why don’t you bypass the relay altogether?” His fingers splayed a cluster of wires, ones that connected a section of the processor to the bit that integrated with TIE’s onboard computer.

Rose tapped her chin. “Yeah, but then how would we be able to connect to the Order’s holonet? Doesn’t the TIE’s onboard have a direct link to the network?”

She was right, of course.

“You would have to plug it into some kind of array to boost the signal. Maybe cloak the transmission. Disguise it as a third-party request. Some Officer using a foreign computer but with a First Order signature.” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to tame it. “There may still be information stored in the memory itself. Connecting to the Order’s holonet might not be necessary if the information is up-to-date. The only problem would be how to _see_ the data. If it can’t connect to the display…”

“We could talk to the computer directly,” Rose said, waving the datapad between them. “Forget the display. We’ll pull the raw data right in from the hard drive. We’d have to remove and re-solder the cables directly, though.” 

He tilted his head.

“That’s quite ingenious. It would all be in binary, however.”

Rose shrugged. “Can’t you read binary?”

He shook his head, genuinely impressed and a little annoyed that she could volley back everything he’d thrown her way. “Do you even have a specialty? Or are you simply proficient in nearly everything mechanical? Propulsion systems? Weapons arrays? Cloaking technology?”

She grinned at him. “Is that supposed to be some sort of compliment?”

His lips parted in surprise, feeling as thought she’d just scattered him all about the floor. Rose was holding his gaze, challenging and confident, but he could see her wavering courage as her words hung between them for longer and longer.

He had to say _something._

Hux cut his eyes away. “If you’d like.”

“Well…” she said, “Seems appropriate. I _did_ invent the baffler.”

He gawked at her, once again taken aback. How many Resistance ships had slipped through their fingers because of that damnable system? She’d _invented_ that? All on her own?

“Incredible,” he muttered. Her smile grew. “That’s quite an accomplishment for someone—” His mouth snapped shut, but she’d heard him all right. He could almost feel her bristle in anger.

“‘For someone’ what? For someone _like me_ ,” she supplied, obviously offended. The smile was gone. “For someone born on such a backwoods mining planet like Hays Minor? Is that it?”

“No, that’s— that’s not—” His hands stilled in their work, and Rose could see he was pink from the back of his neck to the tips of his ears. “For someone as young as yourself,” he said, in a forcibly-even tone.

She laughed a note of surprise. _“What?”_

“I only meant— of course it’s none of my business— only that it’s quite unusual for—”

“How old do you think I am? _Nineteen?”_

He glanced up at her with steely reservation. “Is that a question meant to trick me?”

Rose laughed again. “No! I’m twenty-four, you jerk!” She let out another giggle.

Oh. Hux suddenly found himself on uneven footing. Was she angry with him? Or did she think he was a fool? “Ion engines are quite complicated,” he said, ploughing through his confusion. “It is quite impressive that you were able—”

“How old are _you_ then, huh?”

“What?”

“Well…” and he noticed that as she spoke, a delightfully light blush had taken hold of her cheeks. “Question for a question, right?”

“I didn’t necessarily ask—

“Oh, just play along.”

“Thirty-five,” he said, as if getting right to the point would end his torment.

Her mouth formed a little ‘oh,’ before she added, “Huh.” 

That was an odd reaction.

“Was that… is that surprising?” He had no idea.

“I just thought… well, for a while I thought you were younger. But it makes sense. The facial hair does make you look a bit older.”

Ouch.

Hux felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach all over again.

At his stricken expression, her brows pulled together with concern. “Sorry?”

He grazed his chin with the back of his hand, feeling a thrill of displeasure. “I hate it.”

“Why? You don’t think it makes you look distinguished?”

He almost choked.

“ _No._ ”

Rose gave him a funny look.

“It’s against regulation!” _Obviously!_ “And bothersome! Being unable to go about my personal routine is quite possibly the most distressing aspect about being locked up in this tiny cage for days on end.”

“ _That’s_ the worst part? Really.”

“You’re right,” he spat. “I have neglected so far as to mention the food being qualitatively substandard, the natural light being mediocre at best, and there being absolutely nothing for me to do most hours other than stare at the ceiling and the count divots in the stone. Additionally—”

“What about the company?”

His voice died in his throat. There was quiet emotion in her words, like she hadn’t meant to breathe them into existence at all.

He looked up at her, feeling quite wrung out as her gaze held him captive.

“The company is…” Annoying, tiresome, compelling, warm— “the only highlight of my day.”

She went a deeper shade of pink, and for a long moment, longer than he thought prudent, he wanted to reach out and touch her. He thought back to when he was injured, how she brushed the back of his hand; how delicate the feeling had been.

His fingers twitched, but then he remembered the look she’d given him back on the _Supremacy_ , keeling and glaring and close to death. His fingers remained where they lay, gripping the side of the processor.

Eventually, she broke eye contact, and went back to busying herself with the datapad in her lap. “See? Not all that bad.”

Her eyes whizzed over the screen so fast Hux doubted she were really reading it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who's read, left kudos, and reviewed so far!


	6. Chapter 6

Hux could feel his pulse in his throat. Rose had set the datapad back down, but she still hadn’t uttered a word in some long, agonizing minutes.

Was the silence between them tense? Or was he just making it tense by thinking it was tense?

Hell.

“Wait a minute,” Rose said, so suddenly that he twitched in surprise.

Sitting up from where they worked, prying off old connecting ports, he saw her vaguely annoyed expression. “I forgot the damn soldering spanner, didn’t I?” She checked the pockets of her uniform and turned up empty. A frustrated sound growled in the back of throat. “Guess I’ll go grab it. Hang on a sec.”

Hux watched her stand and unlock the cell door.

“Do find your way back,” he said in a faux-flat tone, gesturing to his ankle, “before I get bored and wander off.”

Rose glanced in his direction through the bars, but she didn’t take his invitation for banter. In fact, she was looking at him with wary eyes. Hux pressed his lips together and ducked his gaze back to the task at hand, listening to her retreating steps.

Once she was far enough, Hux let out a long, deep breathe he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Laying down his multitool, he ran both hands through his hair, trying to coax it back into a somewhat regulated shape.

_“The company is… the only highlight of my day.”_

He’d walked right into that. It had been so obvious. What could have possessed him to open his stupid mouth and say _that?_ Weak-will, of course. _Of course._

She was obviously testing his reactions. Probably seeing if she’d made any inroads in so far as gaining his confidence for the Resistance. Wrap him around her finger. Yes, that was it.

Then… why had she turned such a delightful shade of pink?

More troubling; why did he find her turning pink even remotely delightful?

She was playing him. On purpose. She thought it was funny.

No. As quickly as the thought came, he dismissed it. She wore her heart on her sleeve, even as he wanted to shake her, scream at her that it was ill-advised. He was her enemy and she’d stayed with him that first night. Came back, even when he rebuffed her and was cruel. Brought him tea and blankets. Spoke with him about her loss, and his, even though he deserved none of her compassion and kindness.

The most cynical explanation was that it was all for the Resistance. And maybe part of that were true—

But… he was already cooperating. What more did they want from him? It was obvious that being in their good graces would provide him the only chance of avoiding a firing squad. Even so, he was dubious as to the Resistance’s ability, and willingness, to provide him protection indefinitely.

So _why_.

Whatever the reason, she had quite the annoying talent of needling her way past his defenses. He’d said more words to her in the time he’d been with the Resistance than he’d probably spoken to anyone in during all the formative years of his life.

Hux glared down at the partially disassembled TIE computer as if _it_ were the source of all his anguish.

* * *

Outside, Rose tried to resist the urge to bash her head against the wall. Repeatedly.

He was so— so… _ugh!_

It’s was like he couldn’t decide which box where to put her in. One day he’s ranting about the First Order, lamenting his fate for having to even _talk_ to her, and then the other he’s opening up about his grief, working with her, complimenting her and being, from what she could tell, quite sincere about it.

Her fingers touched the pendant around her neck and felt a wave of nausea.

Hux was there when Paige died. He’d played a part in the destruction of her home planet; in the death of her parents, her allies, her _friends_. How could she be so chummy with him? Wasn’t that _treason_ or something? Wasn’t she spitting on her family’s grave by just being kind to the man?

But—

_"—the only highlight of my day.”_

He didn’t know. Visiting him, questioning him, the bickering, fixing servos amid witty tête-à-têtes… that’s what at _she’d_ begun to look forward to.

It was challenging, maybe a little bit dangerous, and—and _fun._

A welcome reprieve from her other duties.

Something _new_ and _interesting_.

And the parts of him that she’d seen, the real, human Armitage Hux, had surprised her. He’d done terrible, evil things, but he was still capable of sadness, humor, embarrassment—

How flustered he got sometimes; how he seemed to choose his words with fastidious practice. The way his Imperial accent thickened when he was agitated. His finicky quirks, that challenging look in his eyes that drove her to rise above his expectations. His sharp tongue, the gallows humor—

He was… oh god, she thought he was _charming!_

Rose had to stop in her tracks, suddenly sick with nervous adrenaline. This wasn’t supposed to happen! She was just supposed to be gathering intel! She wasn’t supposed to feel _pity_ or _compassion_ , or— or— _affinity_ was she?!

She’d just shelved the bitterness and tried being _herself_ about the whole thing! And that was it, wasn’t it? That’s just where the fault lay. She didn’t have it in her to be some cold, unfeeling interrogator. She was just naturally friendly and he’d started to respond to that, because she was probably the only kind person he’s met in his whole miserable life. She’d heard his silent cry for companionship, and now she was hooked in his orbit.

The accusing eyes of her friends filled her imagination. Finn being furious, Poe being disappointed, Connix’s horror, Rey’s…

Maybe Rey would understand but _still._

Wandering back to the stockade with the soldering tool, she paused just outside the entrance.

Green eyes so light they were almost a pale blue, peeking up through errant strands of ginger hair. She wondered, if she reached out to tuck back the loose bits, would it be as soft as the look he’d been giving her?

Her heart hammered in her chest.

Charming or not, he was still dangerous. Did she really think he wouldn’t take the first opportunity to escape? He’d slated her for death before, so why would he hesitate to hurt her again if he had the chance? Maybe she could test that theory…

Whatever she decided, she couldn’t call it quits now; she knew that. That would be admitting defeat. He’d only begun opening up to her, hadn’t he? Wasn’t that the very definition of progress?

Leia’s knowing smile swam in the back of her mind.

She was helping him as much as he was helping them, that was the reason.

* * *

“I finished disconnecting the cables,” Hux said, watching Rose return with the tool she’d stepped out for. Was it his imagination, or did she look upset about something? Warily, he asked, “Something wrong?”

She sat heavily back into her chair. “No, it’s fine…”

“Clearly not.”

She shook her head, squeezing her temples between her thumb and ring finger. “I’m just… I was just thinking about my family.” It wasn’t a lie, per-say, she thought.

_They’d hate the idea of me working with you like this,_ she wanted to tell him, but held it back. She knew such a statement would hurt him, wound him, make him lash out, and… and she didn’t want that.

“Oh.” He fiddled with the spanner in his hand, looking elsewhere.

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No.”

Only child? That explains a lot, she thought.

“You’re from Arkanis, right? You mentioned it once during our communiques.”

“I was born there,” he said with little emotion, bending to strip the disconnected wires of their protective coating so they could be reattached. “I remember that it rained quite a lot… but I left when I was five, when the New Republic bombed the Academy.”

“The… what?”

He looked up at her, puzzled at her reaction. He didn’t think he’d said anything outlandish.

She gave him a peculiar look. “The New Republic… bombed a _school?_ ”

At her tone of disbelief, a wave of rage flooded into his chest. “Of course they did!” She flinched at his tone, but he didn’t care. “Doesn’t the Resistance tell you people anything? The Republic besieged the entire planet! Tore it apart! We were trapped there!”

Rose remembered the wide-eyed terror of watching First Order ships descending onto Hays Minor.

“You made it out,” she said in a small voice.

“Some of us weren’t so lucky,” he countered stiffly, ripping the coating off another wire with more force than was probably necessary. “My father was Commandant at the time. I suppose that afforded the two of us a bit of special treatment.”

_The two of us_.

Rose could feel the bitterness in his words, and decided to leave the question of who exactly had been left behind for another time. “Your father helped found the Order, didn’t he? I think I remember reading something about him one time…” He went very still, looking even more pale than usual. Uh-oh. “Hux?”

“He was… I believe the Grand Admiral once called him an ‘ego-fed pig’.”

Rose laughed openly, but quickly covered her mouth with a hand.

He held her gaze, lips drawn into a tight line. “He was the one who founded the Order's stormtrooper program.”

“Oh, I see,” her mouth twisted into a pursed frown. Yikes. She’d wanted to facilitate his opening up, but the vibe she was getting at the moment was decidedly _not good_.

_Bad idea! Super sensitive topic! What were you thinking?!_ Her mind raced, unsure of what to say next.

Hux went back to work. “He was a ruthless brute, but I had him killed, in the end. Poison. I believe he eventually dissolved in a bacta tank.” He felt a shadow of an emotion. Satisfaction? He couldn’t even bother to identify it. 

Rose stared at him, slack-jawed.

“It’s in the past,” he muttered, trying to avoid her gaze. He didn’t want to know what kind of look she was giving him. Pity? Horror? Was he a wretch she felt sorry for? Or a monster that disgusted her?

Probably both, he reasoned.

He was as his father made him, after all.

“I’m… sorry,” she said eventually.

“Don’t be. I’m not.”

“Armitage…”

The care with which she said his name, precious and breakable, made him shiver. The silence that came next however, made him want to scream at her.

“Talk about something,” he said suddenly, trying to ignore the loud ringing in his ears.

“Huh?”

“Anything. Just— anything. Something not—something else.”

“I don’t— ah, uh, my—my grandmother had a… tooka? Its name was Südko. He was kind of like this mauve color with little stripes. Really blended into the landscape, so a couple times we thought we’d lost him but turns out he was just _really good_ at sneaking around. This one time, he jumped into my lap when I was practicing on my grandma’s Headhunter sim and _that’s_ why I crashed. Only Paige didn’t believe me. She said—”

He looked at her, one brow raised incredulously. “You had a Headhunter sim?”

“Uh, yeah. A Z-95.”

He took a shaky breath, and Rose was pleased to see the red-faced anger slowly draining from him. “You just… took a few turns on the family snub-fighter before breakfast?” He sounded taken aback; amused, impressed.

She grinned, looking at her hands. “It’s not that big a deal. It was just a simulation. What did you do at a kid?”

“Tinkered, when I was allowed. And sometimes when I wasn’t.” He stripped another of the wires, more at ease then before. He had to admit, her voice _was_ soothing.

“Yeah? Me too. Although… I mainly destroyed things.”

“The flight simulator?”

“Nope,” she popped. “More like… twelve OreDiggers?”

He was shocked for a moment, but then shook his head, like he should have known. “Terrorist.”

“ _Freedom fighter.”_

He supposed that would be true, in light of recent events. History was written by the victor, after all.

“Troublemaker,” he muttered out the side of his mouth, clearly tooling with her. 

“Aren’t all kids?”

“Some of us were _quite_ well behaved.”

“ _Boring_.” She smiled at his quirked brow. “Although… I’m pretty sure neither of us have led boring lives when it comes right down to it, huh?”

He shrugged one shoulder. Maybe boring would have been better, in the end.

“Do you want me to start on reattaching the cables?” Rose asked, tone much more lighthearted than before. 

“Yes, that’s fine,” he said, holding the wires in their new positions as she worked to solder them into place.

* * *

A few hours later, they had the TIE’s intel uploaded onto the datapad. Rose was in the process of translating a bit of the selection screen.

“It would be better if we had a First Order maps’ display. Names of buildings aren’t going to help much if there’re aren’t corresponding visuals.”

“Do you _have_ a First Order maps’ display?” Hux asked blandly, watching Rose work.

She shot him a look.

“I thought that was the genesis of our entire problem,” he continued.

“Yes, okay! You don’t have to keep reminding me.”

“If only we had a First Order ship. Something that…” he trailed off, brows knit with a sudden thought. Rose looked at him, and his expression clicked something in her mind.

“The escape pod,” she supplied, ecstatic. “It’ll save us so much time! You’re a genius!”

But he didn’t— she’d been the one to— “The pod’s abilities are quite basic. It doesn’t contain the same authorization chaincode the TIE does,” he reminded her.

“We can take the datapad with us!” She was already on her feet. “That way we can integrate the TIE’s info!”

He’d heard her, but his brain had become stuck on the word—

“ _Us?”_ He asked, incredulous.

She pointed at his ankle. “We have the cuffs. It’ll be fine! I need you to access the pod’s computer anyway.” Even from a prisoner’s perspective, he had to concede that taking him out into the jungle was breathlessly reckless. “ _Plus_ , it’s _outside_. That’ll be nice, _right?_ ”

He stared at her. Was she… was she trying to _convince him?_

* * *

“Okay, looks like most people are at lunch. Coast should be relatively clear.” Rose said as she unlocked the cell’s door, swinging it open. This would be it, she thought with a thrill; now she’d really see if he wanted to run. The danger of it might have been just _a little bit_ _indulgent._

Hux’s stomach did a backflip. This was such an immensely terrible idea.

“You haven’t cleared this with your commanding officer, have you?”

She snorted. “What, Finn and Poe?” She rolled her eyes. “I guess I could have told D’Acy…”

He shifted uncomfortably. Such disregard for regulation. It’s why the Resistance was such a slippery thing to bring to heel. They had no respect for real military organization; just a ragtag group of self-trained pilots and reckless gun smugglers. If they had even an ounce of consideration for the rules of war they’d—

“Are you coming? Or are you just going to stand there overanalyzing everything?”

Hux realized he’d been staring at the wall over her shoulder. He refocused.

Rose was holding up both arms up in a wide shrug. “Can we _go?”_

He stepped toward her, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

She didn’t make him walk ahead of her this time. Instead, they strode side-by-side. Her blaster was holstered, but unclipped for easy draw. Hux was just thankful she wasn’t jabbing him between the shoulder blades again. She insisted on keeping a grip on his arm above the elbow though, steering him wherever she wanted. He’d balked at that, tried to pull away, but she’d won out. Anyway, her hand _was_ warm through the fabric of his shirt. She’d stuck the datapad into her back pocket.

Stepping outside, he squinted in the sunshine, cuffed hands coming up to shield his eyes. Blinking, he was finally able to see the bright green all around him. It smelled… warm. Grass and dirt and fresh air; so pungent it tingled.

He noticed that as they went, she endeavored to keep herself between him and the greater area of the camp, which lay some yards to their left. Was she trying to hide him? He was quite a bit taller than she was. Anyone who cared to look would no doubt notice him.

What a ridiculous precaution. Still, it made a corner of his mouth quirk up.

“Do you remember anything from after the crash?”

They skirted around what appeared to be the Resistance’s dump pile for old storage crates and small shipping containers.

Pain mostly, he thought. But when he really thought about it… He did have a vague memory of being hoisted between two people, most likely the traitor and his pilot, and… She’d been walking ahead of them, hadn’t she? She’d kept looking over her shoulder at him, framed in darkness, worry in her gaze.

“Not really,” he said, trying to get a good look at the camp before they were swallowed up by the tree line.

Rose snorted. “Poe and I got into this huge argument about what to do with you. Sometimes I don’t think he trusts me with big decisions,” she muttered. “Finn does, but he usually defers to Poe since they’re like, you know.” He gave her a quizzical look. “Together?” She supplied, as if it were obvious. “Not officially. I don’t think Finn realizes how serious Poe is about it. Those two really need to get on the same page.”

Hux didn’t know what to do with any of this information. “I… see.”

The humidity, once under the thick canopy of trees, was palpable. It almost made Hux wish he were wearing a shirt made of lighter material. He looked down, watching his boots move over the dead leaves and detritus with a strange sense of detachment, like he was still aboard the _Finalizer_ and this was all some amazingly realistic holo.

Without realizing it, he’d slowed to a stop. Rose turned to look at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“It’s been a while since I’ve been planetside.” And the last one had been buried under so much snow. “I suppose I must have… forgotten what it’s like.”

Rose took a deep breath, sweeping her arms out. “This is pretty nice, isn’t it?”

“I’ve lived much of my life in space.”

“Recirculated air just can’t compare to a good ‘ol biome. But that’s just me.”

He didn’t know if he agreed just yet or not. Ships were less… messy, compared to what wilderness a planet could hold.

They walked in silence the rest of the way, and he was glad for it. Not that he didn’t enjoy their banter, but this way he could hear alien birdcalls in the treetops; the sound of leaves shifting with the breeze.

It was pleasant in a way he didn’t think he was capable of enjoying anymore, so the easy contentment surprised him. How long had it been since he’d looked at a planet, or whole star system, without mentally calculating what about it could be useful to the Order?

It wasn’t until they reached the escape pod’s crash site, Rose bounding out into the sunlight before him, that he noticed she’d dropped hold of his arm quite some time ago.

“This is so fancy!” Rose said, standing before the little spacecraft with her hands on her hips. “I didn’t get a good look at it the first time.”

“It’s an Officers’ class.”

She whistled. “Oh man! I can’t wait to tear this thing apart!”

He was affronted by the mere _suggestion_ of disassembling such fine First Order machinery, but then he saw how eager she was, and imagined her rifling through the engine compartment, streaked with oil and grinning like a fool.

“Let’s get on with it then,” he said, moving around her towards the cockpit. “I can feel myself getting sunburnt.” Hux glanced toward the still open hatch, which sported quite an obvious streak of old, dried blood. He glared at it.

“Wow, this _is_ nice.” She’d slipped past him and had already situated herself in the cockpit. “It’s so compact. _Adorable!”_

“Do you even know how to turn it—”

The escape pod’s computer blinked to life under her nimble fingers.

His shoulders drooped.

“Oh don’t look so gloomy. Come help me with this.”

He glanced at the upturned dirt and grass where the pod had sunk itself into the ground. Wrinkling his nose, he took a knee next to the open hatch, bracing his bound wrists on the side of the cockpit’s seat, and leaned inside.

Rose was keenly aware of his presence then; him looking over her shoulder.

Balancing the datapad on her knee, she extended the connecting cable, plugging it up and in under the control panel. Damn, she thought, looking over the controls. There were a lot of dials and switches on this thing.

“I’d advise you to disengage the emergency beacon. It’s an auto-on when impact is detected.”

“Okay…” Rose poised her finger over the dash, hovering from blinking light to flipped toggle.

“There,” Hux said.

“Where?”

“ _There.”_

“I don’t—"

“Over _there!”_

Rose threw up her arms. “I don’t know where you’re talking about! There’s like _a million_ buttons in this stupid, overengineered mess!”

“I’d be able to point it out to you, but in case you haven’t noticed, my hands are currently _shackled together!”_

Rose snorted.

Hux flushed to the tips of his ears, jaw tight. Hadn’t it only been a week ago that his fury could reduce men under his command into simpering messes?

This woman was practically unflappable.

He glared at her as she leaned back in the bucket seat, still puffing with laughter.

“Alright, Mr. Hux General Sir,” she said with a slanted smile. “Which one is it?”

He wrinkled his nose at her tone, but nevertheless leaned forward to reach the command panel.

Rose’s smile faltered as he blocked her view of the controls; she suddenly had a very good view of the back of his stupid ginger head. A hysterical voice told her to reach out and _touch_ his hair _._ Just once! Just to see if it was soft. Couldn’t hurt anybody, could it?

This close, Hux smelled like the shampoo in the barrack’s fresher, a light cotton scent, mixed with something a bit like spice; heady from their jaunt through the forest. Rose could feel a sheen of sweat on the back of her neck. She tried not to breathe, but not because she found the smell unpleasant.

When he pulled back, beacon disengaged, he noticed that Rose was covering her mouth, a slightly stricken look on her face.

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are you having some sort of fit or something?”

She let out a dwindling breath. “It’s just… very, um, stupid.”

“The ship?” He frowned, incredulous. The hell was she on about? What about the ship was stupid? Yes, there were an abundance of, admittedly, perhaps redundant controls, but that was simply because there were so many systems on board the First Order Destroyers that had to be integrated into—

He suddenly felt very… tired, rather than offended.

“It is overengineered, as you said,” he admitted, feeling like he’d run in a useless circle just to end up back at the same point. Why did he always do that?

“See, at least we can agree on some things,” she replied, curt, once again busying herself in taking the pod online. “I hope you realize how much trust I have in you right now not to screw me over,” she said, going through the motions of getting the datapad and the onboard computer to talk to each other.

“Excuse me?”

“You know, coming out here, letting you get a hand on this tech. If you wanted to, you could probably bash me over the head and sprint your way to freedom. I’d feel pretty insulted, but still. So… thanks. For coming out here with me and helping with this. And not being a dick about it. You didn’t have to. I didn’t have a blaster on you.”

He stated at her, mouth open slightly. She was right. He’d just… gone with her. For no other reason than it was simply something to do. For no other reason than he’d been enjoying their conversation and didn’t want it to end just yet.

He’d _wanted to._

Without having to rationalize it in his mind first; prove to himself that the tradeoff would be worth it.

He tried to shake off the uneasy feeling this realization gave him.

He _could_ run, he thought. If, by some miracle, he made it off the planet, he could contact whichever First Order fragment had scrambled its way to the top of the trash heap. He could restore some sense of decorum, cannibalize the smaller juntas, crush the pirating renegades.

It had been, for a fleeting moment, his original plan after all.

Hux had no taste for guerrilla tactics, and yet that would be his only method of striking. Especially if the rumors were true and individual systems were taking up arms against the splinter groups.

They would need financial backing to build up their forces, and he suspected their previous benefactors would be unwilling to pump credits into so much in-fighting.

“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” he settled on; safer than his thoughts. “Where would I go?”

“Don’t you have some secret lair or something somewhere?” Rose went on, not really paying attention.

“ _Lair?”_

“Exogol or wherever?”

“The Order was _never supposed to go_ to _Exogol.”_

“Palpatine was there, though. I thought you guys wanted to be like the Empire?”

“We were supposed to be better than the Empire!” He shot back; reflexive, like muscle memory, ire spiking.

Rose scoffed. “I mean, it basically turned out the same.” He stared at her, trying to process her words. “What? I’m not trying to be snarky; I’m being serious. Like, look.” She pivoted toward him another degree, gesticulating. “Name _one_ difference between the Empire and the Order. And not, ‘oh they used clones,’ because that’s a cop-out. I’m talking about _real_ differences. They were both even taken down by Jedi!”

She was right.

He stared at her, mouth agape.

They’d all run in a useless circle just to end up back at the same point.

She was right.

Suddenly, he stood up, heart pounding fast.

Panic flashed over Rose’s face.

Back when he’d stripped himself of his uniform, Hux knew it meant the end of the meticulously crafted machine he’d help build. But that wasn’t all that was gone now, was it?

All his work, all his efforts.

“ _I’ve yet to find anything Armitage isn’t utterly useless at.”_

And it hadn’t even mattered.

It hadn’t changed a thing.

Now, without that machine around him, grinding the galaxy into submission, how could he even know himself? How did he understand what made him, what had been taken from him, or what was left?

What _was_ left?

Hux didn’t realize Rose was speaking his name until, in quite a ferocious tone, she yelled—

_“Armitage!”_

He jumped, eyes refocusing on her. She was standing barely a pace away, face full of worry. She’d exited the pod and grabbed both his arms above the cuffs, her grip strong and anchoring, without him even noticing.

_Don’t touch me._

But he didn’t say it; couldn’t. He just stared at her, breathing hard like he’d run for miles.

“Here, sit down.” Her face was etched with worry. She’d thought initially he was going to bolt, but it looked like he was having some sort of panic attack. She guided him over to the side of the escape pod.

He sat at her direction, drawing up his legs and resting his bound hands over his knees. He bowed his head between his arms, unable to get enough air into his lungs; heartbeat loud in his ears.

Rose kneeled beside him. Tentatively, she reached out and touched his back, just barely with the tips of her fingers. Hux twitched hard at the contact, and she heard a particularly shrill inhale of air. He didn’t move though, so she rested the whole flat of her hand between his shoulder blades. He was so warm.

Like her mother use to do, Rose began making small circles with a gentle pressure. The repetition of it seemed to help; he was still breathing hard, but no longer gasping, head still bowed between his arms.

“What happened?” Rose asked in a quiet voice, when she felt as if the danger had passed.

Hux shook his head

He couldn’t speak.

All he could do was focus on the way she was moving her hand upon his back; slow soothing circles that dulled his panic and uncorked the strain that pulled his shoulders tight, like a warm nostalgia he couldn’t quite remember but was drawn to all the same.

Rose eventually stilled her hand when he seemed mollified, no longer struggling for breath.

“Are you alright?”

When Hux did lift his head, Rose though he looked as haggard as ever, eyes hollow from lack of sleep, pale and pinched-mouthed.

He barely heard her question.

The pain and the sacrifice. It was all… for nothing?

Even now, he could see Pryde’s face as he turned his blaster toward him.

It had all meant _something_ , surely.

Until… it hadn’t.

Because what was death, if not in service for a greater purpose?

Senseless.

He laughed, a short, hollow sound that hurt.

Rose took a deep breath. “It’s okay, you know, to feel overwhelmed sometimes. I do too. We all do. We’ve all been through so much.” Maybe the guilt was finally getting to him. This could be it, she thought, his first steps in a long and endless penance.

_“_ When we’re finished here, you should shoot me.”

Everything grounded to a halt.

Rose stilled. _“What?”_

He shook his head. What he’d done, it didn’t matter if he thought it had been justified or not. In the eyes of history, he’d murdered billions all for nothing. There was no going back. He’d always been a survivor, but he was also a realist. “It’s the only real kindness I deserve; being put out of my misery before the New Republic drags me out for a show trial and a public execution.”

Rose’s hand slipped from his back. “Are you _kidding?”_

The tone of her voice had changed, swung from confusion to fury; she was looking at him with a mixture of disbelief and teeth-clenching anger.

“You want to be _put out of your misery?”_ She was so upset she was nearly shaking. He stared at her, both in awe of her and cowed by her at the same time. She was a force. “You don’t get that,” she said. “Not you. You don’t get a blaster bolt to the brain so you don’t have to live with all the terror and anguish you’ve unleashed upon this galaxy. That’s not what’s going on here. Helping the Resistance isn’t some free pass into guiltless oblivion, you pompous _jerk._ You better get it through the brilliantly pigheaded brain of yours. This is only be the beginning.”

The galaxy wasn’t the way the First Order said it was. And even if it were, it didn’t _have to be._

“Rose—”

The way he said her name, the first time he’d said her name, rife with anguish and such confusion, it stirred something deep within her. This man, she thought, who’s nimble fingers she’d watched rewiring circuitry, who’s sharp wit kept her on her toes and challenged her ability to _forgive,_ who’d looked down at her with detached distain moments before her execution and shattered entire star systems, sitting in the grass and re-faced from a fit of terror—

She took a shuttering breath

“Death won’t take you, Armitage. I won’t let it.” Leia had entrusted the spy to _her,_ and he was going to confront what he’d done. “You’re _mine.”_

She was towering above him now, pitched forward on her knees and braced against the side of the small spacecraft, and as she said those words, something hot and reverent flickered in his gaze. It filled her with a strange kind of power.

This man, whom she had the authority to condemn with just one word, was staring at her like she’d forgone the blaster altogether and just ripped out his heart to hold in her hands.

“You’re going to help rebuild what you tore apart. Do we understand each other?” She said, drawing away, wary of the command she had on him, even as it skittered electricity deep down into the pit of her stomach. There was as much warning there as there was pleasure, like drawing too close to a flame when cold.

“Yes,” he replied softly, watching her with his beach-glass green eyes, heavy-lidded as he looked up at her through his lashes, so fine they glinted like filament.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was such a bear to write lol  
> I really hope it landed well for you guys.


	7. Chapter 7

“Death won’t take you, Armitage. I won’t let it.” A fierce determination overtook her; a bewitching thing to behold. “You’re _mine.”_

At that moment, he forgot she always seemed so petite. Instead, she was a towering force of presence that completely blew him away. She filled his vision, and the look on her face was something reminiscent of the all-consuming commands he knew too well— from Snoke, Ren, his father. Except, her authority didn’t promise any pain.

_What was left?_

“You’re going to help rebuild what you tore apart. Do we understand each other?” The authority in her voice made him shiver; burning him from the inside out.

There she was, talking about redemption. About his being _more._ As if he _could be more._

And for a brief, dangerous moment, he wanted to believe her.

For a brief, dangerous moment, he did.

“Yes,” he replied without an ounce of hesitation. He’d say anything if she kept looking at him like that. Like he was worth a damn.

Rose withdrew to stand. “Good.” She felt hot and cold all over. It wasn’t bad, just… intense. “We should… finish up. Help me around this stupid firewall.” He nodded slowly, like he was trying to concentrate very hard. He used the side of the craft to get back onto his feet.

She didn’t know if he was still staring at her like he was; Rose avoided glancing in his direction until he moved around her towards the cockpit. She wasn’t sure exactly what would have happened if she hadn’t broken the moment, but all her immediate thoughts were pretty embarrassing.

She believed what she’d said though, about his living with what he’d done. She’d help him. She had to. She’d let herself get too invested to let it all go now.

She heard Hux’s voice from the cockpit, slow and soft. “Am I supposed to do your job for you, or are you going to come help me with this?” A shiver ran up and down her spine. If that look in his eyes had a sound…

“Yeah,” Rose said with forced nonchalance, pulling herself together to look over his shoulder. “Are you logged in?”

Hux nodded as the First Order holonet blinked open before them. For some reason he seemed… different, even in profile. Like some of his harsh angles had been smoothed over. For now, anyway.

Rose wasn’t so naïve to think he’d just roll over after one confrontation. He’d be balking every step of the way. She hoped, at least, that she’d be able to dispel his silly notion of giving up on life to escape his feelings. No way was that going to fly.

As he navigated through the complex interlinked networks, Rose pointed to each file she wanted him to drag onto the datapad. They filled up the memory with as much intel as the unit would allow

“This is a great find,” Rose said, taking the datapad back from Hux, stepping out of the way so he could exit back onto the ground. She made a mental note to tell Finn and Poe that the pod itself should be brought back to base. There was still plenty tech inside that could be useful to them. Hux was staring off into the middle distance as he stepped down beside her. “What’s up?”

He pressed his lips together. “Thank you.” He didn’t say for what, but she knew.

“Don’t mention it,” she said with a small smile. The intensity of that whole moment had finally worn off, and she felt a bit exhausted. “I can’t, uh, leave my assistant hanging, can I?”

“Your assistant?” He made an effort of straightening his clothes like it were his old uniform. It was kind of hilarious, Rose thought, since he couldn’t move his arms independently.

Rose shrugged. “Yeah, why not? What would that make you? Like, my Lieutenant?” 

He stared at her for a long moment before a slow smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. “I believe the appropriate rank would be Colonel, but I think your commanding officers would be less than inclined to conscript me, seeing as I’m technically still your prisoner.”

Rose waved the datapad dismissively, closing up the escape pod’s hatch. _“Unofficial_ Colonel. How about that?”

When she turned back around, she noticed a certain glint in his eyes. “After being within spitting distance of Grand Marshall?” He mused. “Can’t say I’m all that pleased, no.”

“Could just demote you instead.” She side-eyed him as she walked past, back towards base.

“That would be impressive, since once again I have no rank.”

“By all means, keep it up, _Cadet.”_

She could hear his small huff of amusement as he followed behind her, back into the thicket of trees.

* * *

This was poor timing, Rose thought, as they exited the foliage along the edge of the camp. The lunch rush was obviously over, and Resistance members moved about the base, working on damaged ships, gathering together supplies for inventory, and carrying out a variety of other duties.

Hux took note of the significant uptick in potential confrontation as he stepped out beside her.

“Take out your blaster,” he muttered, as if he were trying to speak while not moving his mouth very much.

She looked around at him. “Why?”

“So it actually looks like your escorting a prisoner, obviously.”

“I thought we decided I wasn’t going to need to shoot you.”

He rolled his eyes skyward. “It’s for _appearance.”_

Rose hummed, “No, I don’t think so,” and grabbed him by the arm again, steering him clear across the camp’s main pitch. She had important data to pass along to the others, and she hadn’t stumbled across it on her own. She wasn’t going to pretend that she’d forced it out of Hux. If he was being cooperative then he deserved credit for it, too.

It didn’t seem like he shared her enthusiasm.

“This is extremely ill advised,” he hissed, falling in line. He matched her quick strides with practiced ease despite his reservations, walking with the haughty air one could only perfect with years of Officer’s training.

He could feel the stares, but they wouldn’t make him cower

Even Rose could feel it, the tension that followed them like a wave as they crossed from one side of the common to the other. Not that she could blame them, none of them have been spared the corrosive touch of the First Order under Hux’s leadership. She just wasn’t really sure how many members of the Resistance subscribed to Leia’s teachings on benevolence.

Well, she thought with a strange stab of defiance, like it was _her_ they were glaring at, Hux had given them all that insider information. He was the reason they knew Palpatine was on Exegol in the first place. It didn’t absolve him of anything, but it had been one of the few right choices he’d made, and it had helped their cause immensely.

“We’ve got a fair number of fighters with working ships, but we still don’t know which sectors to send them to first.” Poe was telling D’Acy and Finn across a large holodesk, over which floated bits of the Unknown Regions, parts of maps they’d so far accumulated and stitched together.

“This should help.” Rose set the datapad down on the edge of the table.

The three turned to look at them.

Finn seemed to realize she wasn’t alone after a moment’s confusion, like he wasn’t sure who it was standing next to her, and settled eventually on glaring in Hux’s general direction. D’Acy looked less than amused but not at all surprised.

Poe groaned, bracing his hip against the table. “Do I even want to know?”

Hux’s lips pressed into a thin line, standing with as much ridged attention as he could muster with his hands cuffed in front of him. The look of pure loathing he was exacting on Poe was so palpable, Rose swore she felt the chill of it radiating onto her.

Poe seemed to sense it too, finally acknowledging Hux, the first time the pair had seen each other since their poorly-resolved meeting in Hux’s cell. With faux cheer he quipped, “Oh! Hugs! Didn’t see you there! How are ya doin’, buddy?” 

“Alive,” Hux said tensely. “To your immense disappointment, I’m sure.”

Poe squinted with a terse smile. “Great. That’s great. Hey, Rose, not that I’m questioning your methods here or anything,” he said in a tone clearly questioning her methods, “but why exactly is he just,” he made a gesture, “walking around?”

“Hux helped me with the escape pod terminal, so I didn’t have to spend half a day trying to backdoor my way onto the First Order holonet.”

Finn looked incredulous. “You took him out all by yourself?”

Hux angled to give her an ‘ _I told you so’_ look.

“He’s cuffed!” She pointed out, clearly affronted at the suggestion that she hadn’t thought things through. He’d given her a scare there for a moment, but it had turned out fine.

Poe pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, fine. Just, fine. What did you two come up with?”

Rose woke the holopad and flicked the open file onto the desk. The map unfolded between them, suspended, pale blue contours of the star systems speckled with red. “Whatever transmissions, sent or received from any ship with a First Order signature, have been pinged with a red dot.”

Finn frowned, scrutinizing the data. “They’re pretty well spready out.”

“Right. Except for these two major groups,” Rose said, pointing. She used the holodesk to zoom in on the smaller, but still sizeable, first of the two reddest spots, “This one is the First Order’s main shipyards in Fondor. It’s become the focal point for a lot of activity. No Destroyers, but we think there’s a small contingency of high-ranking Officers and a few squadrons of fighters that have holed up there for the time being.”

Hux glanced in her direction.

 _We_ think, hm?

“The other,” she went on, “is a cluster of factions that have banded together near this planet, Brysis, in the Unknown Regions.” The map zoomed out, panned, and zoomed back in again. “From their ion signatures, we think this group’s amassed two Resurgent-class Star Destroyers, and one Dreadnought.”

Poe looked up into the map, face illuminated with a red glow. “That’ll be the largest threat, by far.”

Rose nodded. “The other areas we think are light-starships and some squadrons of TIE fighters, but they’re pretty much scattered. Easy to pick off.”

“This is great,” Finn exclaimed. “We could attack the shipyard first and take out their ability to re-constitute their fleet. We have enough fighters ready to go,” he said to Poe. “We can take the Falcon.”

Poe rubbed his chin. “That’ll give the rest of our pilots time to prepare for the bigger assault.”

“Sounds like we have a plan.” D’Acy folded her arms, looking satisfied. “Well done.” She smiled at Rose, then peered over at Hux, who’s eyes had become rather unfocused as he stared at the map. “Both of you.” Hux glanced her way with a twitch pulling at his lips, like he was actively trying not to sneer. If anything, D’Acy found that even more amusing. “I don’t see why we can’t reward good behavior. Any ideas?”

Rose thought for a moment. “He could start taking meals in the canteen.”

Hux and Poe both blanched.

“Are you _insa--_

\--solutely not.”

Finn snorted. “At least they can agree on something.”

“I don’t think it’s a smart idea to release him into the mercy of the general population just yet.” D’Acy gave Rose an apologetic look, turning to Hux. “Maybe something a bit more manageable?”

* * *

“Out of all the things you could have asked for and _this_ is what you come up with?” Her voice echoed all around the fresher. “A shave?”

“I don’t need to be thrown a bone like some kind of dog,” Hux said matter-of-factly, tossing the small towel that Rose had given him over his shoulder.

She was sitting backwards on the nearest chair, chin propped up in one hand and blaster hanging lazily from the other; more habit than precaution at this point. “Yeah, but I could think of a whole lot of more interesting requests than this.”

Hux hummed, flicking the flat razor down into the sink. He used the less-than-ideal soap, dragging the blade over the plains of his face with practiced precision. He could feel her watching him, following along with the arc of his hand as he moved. He took extra care on the sideburns, making sure the lines were crisp.

When he was done, Hux sighed in a rare moment of pleasurable contentment, running a hand over the smooth skin of his face and rinsing the blade under the tap, checking himself in the cracked and peeling mirror.

There.

He looked like _himself_ again. Save for lack of pomade, of course.

“Better?” She asked from a few feet away.

“Quite,” he smiled, regarding the blade after he’d rinsed and dried it on the towel, eventually folding it back in on itself. “Why am I not surprised you were only able to round up one of these ancient models, instead of a sonic shaver?”

“Why am I not surprised you know how to _use_ one of those ancient models, instead of a sonic shaver?”

He glanced at her out of the corer of his eye before turning, “Touché,” and took the necessary steps toward her, holding out the now sheathed blade.

“Finn and Poe had a fit about this, you should know,” she said, taking the razor from him with a pointed flourish. “I had to talk them down off a proverbial ledge.”

“Good,” he quipped smugly. “I like keeping the traitor and his pilot on their toes.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Finn isn’t a traitor any more than you are, so you should probably start calling him by his preferred name.” Rose stored the razor back in her pocket, giving him an appraising look.

He could nearly feel it; the way her gaze roamed over his face. He wondered, absently, if she approved. Or did he now reminded her of when they’d first met? Hux straightened up, squaring his shoulders.

“Old habits,” he muttered, noticing how she cut her eyes away.

Silence descended between them, tense for a moment.

“So…” Rose’s mouth twisted to the side. “Are we going to talk about what happened today? Or are we just going to pretend that it never happened at all?”

He frowned. “I’d prefer the latter, but I’m beginning to suspect that I have little choice in the matter.” He’d had a moment of weakness, a moment of uncontrollable panic. Even now, thinking about it filled him with shame. What did she want? For him to relive it indefinitely?

Rose tapped a finger on the side of her blaster with impatience. “Just because the Order’s gone doesn’t mean you have to go with it. You know that, right? You’re allowed to live for something else.”

He stared at her very hard. She actually cared about his feelings on this, and he couldn’t understand why. “While there was always the potential for the Order to fail, I never thought I’d live long enough to contemplate the aftermath.”

“Well, congratulations. You’ve lived long enough. And now you’re going to keep on living, just like the rest of us.”

My, aren’t I lucky, Hux thought dryly.

She was being overly optimistic again, and it made him angry. He wanted to hurt her; stamp out that flicker of hope in her eyes.

“You should know, before you continue with your misguided charity, that I intended to double-cross you.”

“Huh?” Rose breathed in surprise.

“In the beginning, when I first arrived. Before I knew how truly broken the fleet had become. I thought I could help you whittle down the Order into something worth salvaging.” 

“And you’re telling me _now?_ Why?”

“For some unfathomable reason, you seem to have placed a level of trust in me I do not deserve. I’m just trying to dispel you of your delusions.”

Oh, Rose didn’t believe that for a second. She pointed a finger at him. “You’re apologizing.”

He bristled.

“I am simply informing you of my plans,” he said firmly.

“Oh yeah, that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do; tell me your stupid secret plans to escape. Are you even listening to yourself right now?” He stared at her, pinned to the spot. “You’ve got a real shit opinion of yourself Hux, you know that?” His jaw clenched tight. “You try so hard to convince yourself you’re this unfeeling machine but you’ve not. You’re human. And you’re allowed to be better.”

“And what if I don’t want to _‘be better’_?” He sneered.

“Then you would have bashed me over the head and ran today! Or stabbed me with the razor and escaped already! But you didn’t. Because you don’t want to. Because this is better than the alternative. Because you’re _tired_.”

On that, she was dead on. All the scheming and looking over his shoulder and surviving for the sake of surviving. Gritting his teeth through the pain, holding on for power, only for it to be ripped out from under him. Yes, he was tired.

_You’re going to help rebuild what you tore apart._

His hands curled into fists. “I don’t understand what you want,” he said finally, frustration bleeding into his voice. “I’m giving the Resistance all the information they need. I _am_ helping you ‘rebuild’. Why are you so persistent in understanding how I _feel_ about it?”

“Because. It matters.”

He scoffed. “To whom?!”

“To _me_ , okay?!”

As she’d been speaking, his lip had curled gradually into a snarl, but at that last bit, it sort of… faded out.

“What you’ve done is monstrous,” her voice was firm. “There’s no accounting for how much blood is on your hands, but whoever’s convinced you that you were born evil is _wrong.”_ Something in his chest constricted. “And you don’t have to keep proving them right, either. You don’t have to die for it all to end. You wrap yourself up in your loss and your shame and your rage, but you’re allowed to feel good things, too. _That’s_ why. You—you _jackass.”_

His confusion was so evident and pained that it actually took Rose by surprise; confirmed her worst fears. Armitage Hux had been denied anyone ever giving a shit about how he felt about anything other than how to turn him into _this._ Whatever _this_ was.

Rose stood, making her way over to him.

“You’re such a mess,” he heard her say as she walked up, now dangerously close. Hux took a step back, bumping into the edge of the sink, trapping himself.

“Miss Tico…” he said in warning.

“Just— just shut up, will you?”

Before he could say another word, she was wrapping her arms around him in a tight hug, pinning his arms down at his side. He tensed, ridged; the contact electrifying, but he couldn’t identify it as either welcome or repulsive. Alien— that’s how it felt, because he couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him in this way. Hugged him.

He didn’t deserve this, he thought miserably.

Or, maybe he did. This churning confusion and pain; the unmooring of his identity. Maybe that’s what he really did deserve. Maybe that was her whole point.

After a moment, he felt some of the tension drain from him, relaxing into the warm circle of her arms just a fraction more. Somehow, it felt less like giving up then he’d expected.

While Hux’s mind reeled away on itself, Rose was beginning to realize there was a massive flaw in her plan, because right now, the side of her face was pressed against his warm, solid chest. She could feel his muscle definition through the shirt on her cheek. She could hear his heart beat loud in her ears; strong and jackrabbit-fast at first. It evened a bit, his heart, and as she focused on his slowly-steadying breath it was… sort of… nice? She kind of wished he was a more willing participant though…

“Please let go of me,” Hux managed, voice strangled, once he’d reached the limits of his patience.

Rose did so, stepping back. “You just looked like you needed it, okay?” She said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

He glared at her, but it lacked its usual sharp edge. “You’re… exhausting,” was all he could manage.

Rose grinned. “One of my many wonderous qualities. Now… am I going to have to walk you through the whole deal a _third_ time? Because it’s like, _at least,_ forty-five minutes past when they start serving dinner and I’m _starving._ ” When he just stared at her, she turned to lead them out of the fresher, but paused. “Just… try not to be so hard on yourself all the time. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Hux bit the inside of his lip, frowning.

This woman was the most frustrating, persistent, _incomprehensible_ creature he’d ever come into contact with. She didn’t know when to _stop._ With his thoughts came that urge again, that streak of cruel fire. He could make her see how wrong she was, even if it hurt her. But… she’d touched him, gently, and without provocation, and he didn’t immediately want to peel his skin off, so… maybe he would let her insolence slide, just this once.

But just this once.

Rose led them out into the dimly lit hallway, the fresher’s lights shutting off after them. Hux watched her as they made their way back to his cell, the bun on the back of her head bouncing slightly as she walked.

* * *

The sounds of the canteen were muted, swimming in the background of her mind as Rose sat alone on one of the durasteel benches. The side of her face pressed against the cool tabletop. Thinking.

Not for the first time, Rose wished Paige was here. She could talk to Paige about anything. Troubles with her engineering work, her hopes, her fears, her heart—

Paige had been the tough one; the fighter. She would have probably just socked Hux in the mouth and walked right over him. If anything, she’d see how much suffering Rose had brought down upon herself and just laugh at her. Not cruelly, but with a knowing fondness at just how ridiculous her little sister was.

 _“You’ve got such a big heart_ , _”_ Paige would say, “ _no wonder you’ve gotten yourself into so much trouble.”_ She’d ruffle Rose’s hair, her helmet tucked up under one arm, on her way out the door to practice flying.

It always felt like Rose was watching her sister’s back as she walked away.

She hadn’t been angry at Paige for a long time, but just for a moment, Rose was mad that her sister wasn’t there to hear her woes. There was guilt there, plenty of it, but anger too.

Funny, she sort of wondered what Hux would think of that…

“You. Look. Like. _Shit.”_

Rose turned her cheek on the cool, metal tabletop, to see Connix sliding her tray down across from her, swinging her legs over the long bench seating.

“Thanks,” she mumbled, cheek squished.

The woman bit into a crisp, purple fruit, talking around the mouthful, “Everything going okay?”

“Ugh.”

“That good, huh?”

Rose sat up, looking down at the food on her tray, which she hadn’t even touched. The nutty mashed bit was probably completely cold by now. “It’s not… it’s not _bad._ It’s just… confusing sometimes. Trying to piece together what makes someone do the things they do. It’s a lot.” Especially when that someone was about as emotionally aware as an engine block. 

“That’s not your job, you know,” Connix switched the fruit for a knife, cutting a sliver of the round, flat portion of protein on her plate. Her nose wrinkled with displeasure, but she ate it all the same. “All they want is actionable information. You’re not required to be the guy’s shoulder to cry on.” Her expression darkened. “I don’t understand how you do it. I’d want to wring his pasty little neck. You’re a saint for sure.”

Rose wasn’t sure about all that. It was easy to dismiss someone like Hux as untouchably evil— _she’d_ even felt that way to start— but once you got to know the person underneath all the pain, it was different.

Maybe that’s how Rey felt. With Ben.

Rose’s heart jumped.

Was she really comparing…?

Lunacy.

“It’s what anyone would do,” she said eventually.

Connix snorted. “Yeah right! You know Leia put you in charge of the spy for a reason, right? There’s plenty of people around here with more experience than you in the field of intelligence gathering.” Rose shifted uncomfortably. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way, Rose. Leia knew the spy was someone really ingrained in the Order. But she knew you’d see beyond that, because you’re not cruel. Even after everything you’ve been through, you’re not as jaded as the rest of us.”

“I’m gullible, you mean.”

“Did I say that?” Connix set down her fork, crossing her arms over her chest. “The Resistance survives because we allow ourselves to _feel_. That’s what Leia wanted; a movement based on love and compassion. That’s who you are.”

Maybe. It still sounded like Connix was saying she was she was naïve.

“Am I…” Her voice was so quiet she’d be surprised if Connix could even hear it. “In working with Hux, am I betraying Paige?”

Connix’s posture softened at the wounded sound in Rose’s voice, settling on a sympathetic smile. “Do you think you’re doing the right thing?”

“Yes,” Rose breathed, feeling the truth of those words.

Connix reached over and covered Rose’s hand with hers. 

“Paige fought and died so that the galaxy could be different. Be _better._ There’s no shame in trying to help people. Besides, don’t you think she’d find it hilarious?” She gave a small grin. “A real stick in the eye of the Order, huh? Turning one of their top Generals against them? Persuading him to actually _help us?_ ”

Rose snorted, shaking her head. “Probably.”

“Just make sure you get a good night’s sleep once in a while, alright?”

“Yeah.” Rose gave her a watery smile. “I’ll try.”

* * *

_“You wrap yourself up in your loss and your shame and your rage.”_

_“Whoever’s convinced you that you were born evil is wrong.”_

How dare she assume those things about him?

Lying in his bunk that night, Hux once again tried, and failed, to understand her.

Rose should hate him, and maybe she did, but her declaration that she actually cared about how he felt concerning, well, _anything_ absolutely floored him.

_“There’s no accounting for how much blood is on your hands”_

With a sinking feeling, he was beginning to suspect that her wearing him down had little to do with the Resistance. It was just _her,_ wasn’t it? She wasn’t satisfied with his begrudging compliance. She wanted everything.

_“You’re going to help rebuild what you tore apart.”_

It was worse than those times Ren or Snoke had invaded his mind, peeled his thoughts open, because at least then he knew they were doing it, because there was pain. With her, she’d been able to infiltrate his thoughts with him barely noticing at all, because she was a soft slip into his subconscious; an unspoken promise of relief, a _wanting_ to understand him.

_“You’re allowed to feel good things, too.”_

She wasn’t content in being a passive witness to his imploding; she insisted on actively trying to strip away everything the First Order had made him.

_“You don’t have to keep proving them right, either.”_

Everything that Brendol had made him.

For, that’s who she spoke of, even if she did not know it.

It wasn’t that Hux was blind to how the machinations of his father had shaped his life. He knew very well that the man had wanted a perfect soldier-son, one that would live out his fantasies of rebuilding the Empire. But he’d believed the stories his father and his father’s friends had told him. And if the Order failed, he should be dead right along with it. It was the natural progression of things. It’s what Brendol would have wanted.

His surviving, his outliving the very thing he was specifically made to inhabit, felt like a jarring split along some predetermined timeline. It wasn’t meant to happen. He was supposed to die believing in the righteousness of his cause as the ship around him exploded into dust, clenched fist upon his heart. He wasn’t meant to walk free from the proverbial wreckage, grappling with what lies he’d been forced to swallow and the possibility of different truths.

It was torture. It was part of the reason he wished she’d just let him die with some semblance of dignity, even if it meant he died believed in something she thought was vile.

But no. She was kind, but she was no bleeding-heart. Her mercy came only with the command of _living_ and _growth_ ; a slow, torturous mercy into acceptance.

Her face, staring down at him, fierce and determined that he become more because _she willed it to be so._

His chest constricted with the want of it, of her, foreign and alluring.

There was a nasty voice in the back of his head, asking if he were really so weak-willed as to cling to whomever promised some semblance of affection. Of kindness.

Except… with her it didn’t feel like weakness. With her it felt like an outstretched hand, promising him a chance at everything he never knew he wanted.

All he had to do was reach out

And take it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be some adventuring coming in the next few chapters!


	8. Chapter 8

The ships scattered around the makeshift Resistance airfield glittered reflective and silver in the mid-morning sun.

Standing at the bottom of the Falcon’s ramp, Rose looked up at Finn.

“You should come with us,” he said. “This mission wouldn’t be happening if it wasn’t for you.”

The assault on the First Order shipyards above Fondor.

Well, not for her _and_ Hux.

It was a temping offer Finn was giving her. Hadn’t she, not too long ago, been complaining about this very thing? That she’d been relegated to desk duty as the _boys_ had all the fun? But then, she thought of Hux, alone in his cell, with nothing to do but stare at the wall. The alternative would be sitting together, working on mechanical components, talking tech and trading barbs.

The latter option curled something warm and pleasant inside her.

“I think I’ll stay behind.”

Finn’s face screwed up in confusion. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yeah. You guys be careful, though. Blow some stuff up for me.”

Finn smiled with an excited nod, ducking back into the Falcon.

“Hey.”

Rose turned to see Poe, munitions thrown over one shoulder, walking up the grass.

“Hey,” she said with an easy smile, but it quickly fell when she saw the look on his face. “What is it?”

“Connix mentioned she saw you last night and thought you looked a little wrung out. Everything okay?”

She shrugged off an uneasy feeling, eyes roaming around so she wouldn’t have to look at her friend. “What? Yeah, it was nothing. Just, you know… long hours.”

With solemnity she rarely saw from him, Poe stood before her and put a hand on her shoulder, fingers curling slightly into her shirt. It wasn’t a painful, angry kind of grab, but one in which he did so to make sure she was _absolutely listening to him._ He looked around for a moment, trying to get a hold of what he wanted to say, before holding her gaze.

“Be. Careful.” He was firm, punctuating each word with a gentle flex of his hand.

She scoffed, eyebrow quirked. “Oh…kay? Yeah _, I’ll_ be careful. Here. While you’re out dodging turret fire in space.”

Pressing his lips together into a thin line, Poe shook his head. “No, I mean, _be careful,_ okay? Just… _think_ , before you do something you’ll regret.”

Rose felt a shiver run down her spin.

He was talking about _something else._

She swallowed thickly.

“Yeah.”

“Paige would be proud of how much you’ve done for the Resistance, you know that.”

Her face pinched with emotion. Somehow, it felt like he was trying to hurt her with that. It was a compliment, but… why did it feel like such a low blow? Why did she suddenly want to rip his hand off?

Anger, from where she did not know, bubbled inside her.

 _“I got it,”_ she said firmly.

Poe lightened instantly. “Good.” He patted her shoulder. “Good. Hopefully the next time we see you, the First Order’s shipyards will be down for the count. Then we can go after the big prize.”

She nodded as he turned away, walking up the ramp to join Finn.

Roiling anger followed her back to the hanger, where she casted about aimlessly, feeling like she wanted to throw things and scream.

_“Be careful.”_

She _was_ careful! She made sure she was armed at all times! She’s used the cuffs!

In her mind’s eye, Poe shook his head again.

No. She wasn’t stupid.

He meant _her._

Rose slowed to a stop next to her workbench.

Because—

_“Because. It matters.”_

_“To whom?!”_

_“To **me** , okay?!”_

Because she was getting too close. Too personally invested.

She _cared_ now.

That was what Poe was worried about.

Rose pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes.

When did her life get so complicated?

_“Do you even have a specialty? Or are you simply proficient in nearly everything mechanical?”_

His compliments, so hard won; the look on his face when he was particularly impressed by her.

Why did she enjoy it so much?

Because Hux saw _her_. Not Paige Tico’s sister. Not Finn’s sidekick. Not his interrogator. Not Rebel scum. Her.

_“The company is the only highlight of my day.”_

Rose’s heart did a shiver-sweet gallop.

* * *

That evening, after being allowed use of the fresher’s showers, Hux found himself back in his cell close to sunset. He could hear the sounds of camp start to swell as the light from his small window turned a purple hue. Excited chatter of people returning from work and the clatter of cutlery; it must have been supper time in the canteen.

Any minute now some nameless Resistance member would walk in and throw what cold scraps had been spared from the night before through the slot on the floor. Sometimes they were human, and sometimes they were not, but all gave him a look that could only mean Rose had bribed them not to shoot him dead where he sat.

The door at the end of the hall slid open.

Like clockwork.

He looked up from the datapad he was perusing; an old reader-model with no holonet connectivity. Rose had found it for him, and even though the only uploaded texts were old starship repair manuals, he was thankful to have _something_ nonetheless.

To his surprise and unadmitted delight, the very woman he’d been thinking of came into view, balancing two mis-matched and chipped-rimmed bowls in one hand and two cans in the other.

Hux grimaced in wry amusement. “What are you doing?”

“Well, someone let it slip that all they’ve been feeding you are leftovers, so I thought this might be better.” The two bowls came down with weighty _clunks_ onto the table set up in the hallway, steaming. Placing the drinks to the side, she pulled the strap of her bag off her shoulder and let it drop to the floor. Hux set the datapad to the side, rolling his eyes in exaggerated irritation, as if she’d interrupted something truly worth his time.

“And here I was, hoping for another plate of cold, unidentifiable vegetables.”

Rose gave him an apologetic look. “Sorry.” He stood, shrugging his shoulders up and giving a huff when he dropped them again. “This will be better,” she added as he approached the durasteel bars, “I promise.” She knelt to slide the bowl through where the trays usually went, but the rim caught on the metal. It was too tall.

They both stared at it.

She tilted the bowl and gave it a second try, but it got stuck again, the shape clearly not compatible with prison cells.

Rose gave a withering sigh as Hux bit the inside of his lip to keep from chuckling.

“Smells… decent,” he conceded, the corner of his mouth twitching.

“Shut. Up.” She stood, looking at the bowl in her hand and then back at the bars. She hadn’t foreseen this particular problem.

“It’s the thought that counts, I suppose.” He mused.

Rose shot him a fierce glare, fishing the data chip out of her back pocked and pressing it against the command pad. The lock clicked open, and she swung the door back into the hall.

“You’re in a _mood_ ,” she huffed, thrusting the bowl in his direction.

His eyebrows shot up. _“Me?”_

She was flushed, either with embarrassment or anger he could not tell, but he took the bowl all the same, as it had stopped just a few inches before colliding with his chest.

He could really smell it then; bright, acidic, and with a distinctive tang. There were small starchy bits, roughly chopped vegetables, and dark, almost purple-black chunks of what he hoped was some kind of meat, mixed throughout an ocher-red sauce. He blinked in surprise as Rose went to hand him something else. It was a fork, with one of its tines missing.

Inwardly, he shook his head, taking the fork and studying how old and worn it was.

The Resistance. Really.

Rose extracted a once-bent, now re-straightened, spoon from her breast pocket, pulling the chair up into the cell doorway.

Hux motioned lazily to the still-open cell door with the pointy end of the fork. “Just going to leave that, are you?”

“Eat your damn food,” she griped, “I’m too tired to argue.” She sat heavily, bowl balanced in her lap as she reached behind her, snatching the two cans, one of which she kept. “Here.” Rose made a mock throw so he was ready, and then tossed the can in his direction.

“More juice?” He sneered, catching it easily with one hand.

“It’s beer, you ass. You got something from the Generals for helping the other day, and _this_ is from _me_.”

The can was dinged up and a bit scratched, like it had been carted halfway across the galaxy under the metal floorboards of some smuggler transport.

But…

He glanced up as Rose tugged errant strands of black hair out of her face, trying to smooth them into a bun that had most likely loosened over the course of the day.

Her thoughtfulness tugged at something in his chest. He found it not as unpleasant as he might think.

Hux used the toe of his boot to drag the small crate over to sit across from her. The back of his little room was darker now with oncoming night, the only illumination coming from the lights out in the hall. He took a seat just on the edge of light that seemed to radiate from above Rose’s chair.

There was a telltale pop and hiss as she opened the tab of her drink.

Hux was no fan of eating in front of other people, but Rose apparently held no such reservations. She carefully scooped a bit of each ingredient onto her spoon, scraping the convex bottom over the rim of the bowl to avoid spills, and popped the entire bite into her mouth. She was so thorough that the utensil came away clean; pressing her lips against the entirety of the spoon as she pulled it from her mouth. Eyes fluttering closed, she let out a quiet sound of contentment, slouching back in her chair.

Hux didn’t realize he was staring, rapt, with his fork halfway to his bowl, until she opened her eyes to look at him.

“What?” She snapped, shifting nervously in her seat.

He shook his head, eyebrows jumping as he quickly busied himself with spearing a bit of the stew for himself. The back of his neck felt hot. If he shoved the food into his mouth as quickly as possible, he reasoned, then he wouldn’t have to figure out what to say.

To his surprise, Rose let out a frustrated sigh. “Sorry,” she muttered, stirring her bowl vigorously. “I’m just… there’s this _thing_ I’ve been trying to work on and it’s been giving me a lot of grief. Plus, now I’m having to pick up the slack for some of the other engineers, like they can’t be bothered to figure out how engines work for themselves. _Then_ I found out they weren’t giving you the proper food and—” she broke off, grumbling. She avoided the subject of Poe’s warning. It would be too much. “It’s been a day.”

Hux frowned. She was doing an exorbitant amount of work. “Tell that idiot Dameron to balance assignments more evenly. Spread your subordinates too thin and everything begins falling apart.” Such lack of formal training. Maybe he should start giving seminars.

“It’s not his fault. If anything, it’s mine. Sometimes I feel like if I’m not collapsing into my bunk at the end of the day then I’m just not contributing enough.”

He snorted. “That’s absurd.”

“Huh?”

Hux felt himself get a bit warm. “From what I’ve seen, you’re the only one around here worth a damn.”

She gave him a strange look. “You think so?”

He hummed in careful accent, loading a fork full of food. “You did have the audacity to sneak aboard a Destroyer and _bite me,_ if you recall.” He… liked that about her; that fire. “And Dameron keeps questioning your methods. If anything, he underestimates you.”

Rose blushed, grinning. “Now that’s _definitely_ a compliment.”

“Yes, it was.” Hux took a mouthful of food, chewing slowly. The stew was rich; full of a spice and flavor he couldn’t quite put to name. Eventually, he swallowed, looking back down into the bowl with a note of quiet surprise.

It was… delicious.

“Not bad, huh?”

Hux looked up to see that Rose had been watching him, trying to hide a broad, pleased expression behind her hand and her spoon.

“It is… sufficient.” He said with clinical loft.

“Oh shut up,” she laughed, giggled really; giddy.

The corner of his mouth twitched up.

“It’s quite good,” he muttered in admission, stirring the corners so they kept warm. She was still staring at him; he could feel it. He must look a fool, he thought, sitting awkward and gangly on some little wooden box, dressed in whatever charity clothing the Resistance had deigned to give him, hair a mess, stripped of rank, laid so terribly low— “I’m going to assume it’s much better fresh than it will be tomorrow evening.” He leaned forward and used his free hand to pull back the tab on the beer.

Rose took a swig of her drink. “Did they have food like this in the Order?”

Hux let out a sharp, single-note laugh. “Most certainly not.”

“Really? What the hell did you all eat?”

“Nutritive milk, mostly. It’s more cost efficient and faster to consume,” he added, at her look of horror. “Meals were available upon request, but to require them was viewed as weakness.”

Rose shook her head. “That’s awful. How terrible.” She said it like it was another black mark on the Order’s long list of atrocities. She paused, thinking, and then blurted, “Is that why you’re so thin?”

Hux choked on his food, coughed, and reached for the beer in order to take a long, cleansing draught. It was mostly fizz and foam at the top, but he gulped it down, breaking off with a pant of fresh air.

_“Thin as a slip of paper.”_

“Sorry,” Rose winced.

_She was trying to kill him!_

Rose took a sip of her own drink, mumbling over the rim of the can with embarrassment, “Are you okay?”

 _“Fine,_ ” he was able to wheeze, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He glared at her, his pride wincing. “I suppose I _am_ rather slight of build,” he said bitterly, “compared to— to—” he cast about for someone he could even bother to remember, “to the _trait_ — FN— _Finn!_ Or whatever the hell he calls himself.” His heart was racing, ire piqued.

She looked confused. “Well, yeah,” like it was obvious. “He went through the Stormtrooper program.”

“That was _my_ program!”

A dark emotion passed over Rose’s face. “I know,” she said tonelessly. The sudden ice in her voice stalled his words; made him fall silent. She jabbed at a piece of meat in her bowl with a distinct air of anger.

Hux blinked down at his food and took a breath. What had he been trying to do with that little outburst? Prove her to her that he’d gone through the same basic training that Finn had? He felt hot; aggravated. Why was he trying to justify this to her? Because he didn’t like the idea of her thinking poorly of him? “Well,” he said, dismissing his own thoughts, “it doesn’t matter.”

“It mattered to all those kids you stole.”

“We provided those children a good life,” the words flowed out of him as easily as one of his weekly addresses.

Rose gaped at him.

“Famines on Ibaar and Adarlon!” He didn’t even have to think; it was a justification long since ingrained within him. “Alien advancements rampant and unchecked in the Outer Rim! The liberation of the Iktotch labor camp! The Republic’s _deplorable—”_

“Armitage.”

The warning in her voice cut through his diatribe, and Hux realized that he’d started to lean forward where he sat. He glanced at the fork clutched in his white-knuckled grasp, and forced himself to relax his hand.

Ah yes, he thought. Hays Minor.

“I knew some of those kids,” she said with precise and dangerous emotion. “And I can tell you without a doubt that each and every one of them would have rather been starving and destitute and still living with their families rather than be ripped away from everyone and everything they ever knew.”

She was trying to stay calm.

“ _We_ had to deal with that. _We_ had to fight for every single one we could. And when Paige and I left,” she shook her head in disbelief at his callousness, “ _we_ had to hear the news about _our_ planet, _our_ parents, _our_ friends, being bombed to death because the First Order decided to test a few of their new canons.”

Her calm was collapsing, breaking away one jagged piece at a time. “What it’s like to be taken from everything you’ve ever known. Ripped away from the ones who love you. Never to see them again. You can’t even—”

“We left my mother on Arkanis.”

His words hit her like a blow; he could see the impact.

“Your— your father… _abandoned_ his own wife?”

“Yes, well… while he did abandon his wife, his wife was not my mother.” He smiled, but it was a spiteful and self-inflicting, and broke into a pained expression. His brows drew together before allowing, “I’m a bastard.”

Rose’s eyes widened.

“Looking back…” He hoped she didn’t notice his hand trembling as he raked it over his face. He remembered that he did not cry when his father loaded him aboard their escaping ship, but he did remember the fear. A swift-moving terror that threatened to drown him; made him want to run back toward the ruined Academy’s living quarters despite the blanket of bombs. “Perhaps the taking by force, at such a young age, was, admittedly, a step too far.” The admission was a twist in his gut. It would only make her hate him more, surely.

“It was… a mistake,” he said, and when he did, there was a small ease to that terrible weight inside him.

Conscripting them so young… it had been the best way to ensure the Order’s propaganda was taken to heart, but that didn’t mean those children hadn’t felt that same wild terror that he’d experienced when leaving Arkanis. He could see that. They could have actively recruited, but they’d chosen the easier route. To his surprise, it felt _good_ to have acknowledged it.

Rose’s voice was soft, but determined. “Those kids. They became stormtroopers. And your father created the stormtrooper program.”

Hux nodded slowly, a little unsure where she was going.

“Do you ever think that maybe… the reason Finn bothers you so much is because… _he_ was able to escape? And you weren’t?”

His lips parted in surprise; the air in his chest felt like it had been forced out in one, heavy blow.

Of course. Now she saw him weaker than Finn not only in physical strength, but in fortitude as well. He hadn’t been strong enough to save himself. Not himself. Not Millicent. Not _her._

The knowledge of _her_ burned into his chest like a brand.

Honey-red hair.

A woman whose name he did not know.

Green eyes, like his.

A name he’d been too young to remember.

The slap of a hand across her face.

A name which his father had banished from existence, killing her all over again.

Gone.

His mother.

All gone.

He trembled with rage, a wave of fury bubbling up inside of him so hot and tight that it nearly blinded him.

Rose’s voice broke through, full of righteous anger… on _his_ behalf. “You didn’t abandon your mother on Arkanis, Hux, he _took you_ from her.”

The wave of fury broke against the unyielding compassion in her eyes, the absolution offered in her voice, washing back down into the dark within him, extinguished, leaving him utterly bereft.

He was breathing hard.

“Hux?”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly.

“But…”

He couldn’t see her clearly; she seemed to swim before his eyes, and it confused him. He blinked, trying to keep her in focus, and felt a strange sensation.

Slowly, Hux reached up, pressing his free hand to the side of his face. His fingers pulled away wet, glistening with tears. He stared, dragging his gaze up to stare at Rose in quiet horror, as if she’d done this to him.

Setting her bowl to the side, Rose stood, and took a determined step toward him.

He shook his head, extending his arm to stop her.

“Don’t.”

At the tone of his voice, she did as he’d said, standing there, half-way to him.

Hux wiped his hand furiously over his face. “Pathetic,” he muttered, trying to smother the shame and the hurt and the loss under the familiar, cold emptiness.

“You’re not pathetic,” her tone was soft, welling all that emotion back up into his throat again. “I don’t think you are.”

He yearned for that warmth in her voice; the embrace of her arms. How close he came to giving in was frightening. It was all too much.

“Leave,” he whispered, hoarse.

“But—”

“No.”

“Hux—"

“Please, Rose.”

Her lip trembled, but she backed away in silence, gathering her things to make a swift exit. She looked back at Hux one last time before she closed the cell door. He was bent forward where he sat, covering his eyes with a hand, still as stone.

Outside, Rose took deep, shuttering breaths of evening air, willing her legs to carry her back to the barracks before she completely lost it.

As soon as the door to her room closed with a click behind her, she burst into noisy tears, holding her face in her hands as she sank down heavily onto her bunk

* * *

Later, after dragging herself back from the fresher, Rose tried in vain to fall asleep. She kept staring at the ceiling and seeing Hux’s face in her head. His face being angry, his face being contemplative, his face in shock as tears gathered and ran down his pale cheeks.

Rose didn’t have to know every detail about his childhood to know it had been a cruel one. Every bit of evidence Hux let slip only reaffirmed her suspicions that someone in his life, and she had a pretty good idea _who,_ had been one evil son of a bitch.

Brendol Hux had just… _left_ both his wife and mistress in the middle of a warzone. From there, it wasn’t too far of a stretch to assume the back of the man’s hand had met his son’s face once in a while. Or worse.

It certainly would explain a lot _._

Rose felt a deep, twisting stab of pity.

She wasn’t going to be able to sleep with such thoughts in her head.

Turning over, she screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out the image of Hux’s expression when she’d messed up their entire evening together.

_“Is that why you’re so thin?”_

Sometimes she really hated that big mouth of hers. Obviously he was sensitive about his appearance; probably had even been bullied about it.

Rose groaned, shoving her face into her pillow to muffle her mortification.

She really messed up, hadn’t she? She’d have to apologize to Hux tomorrow.

What if… what if he never wanted to talk to her again?

The thought was painful, like a physical blow.

No, she had to be optimistic. She couldn’t give in to despair.

Rose would just have to say sorry; let him know that she wasn’t trying to be hurtful.

When she did finally fall asleep, she dreamt she was walking through the forest just outside the base. Something— _someone—_ was up ahead, but she couldn’t quite make them out. Every time she sped up, they seemed to do the same.

Crashing through the underbrush, Rose thought she saw the back of her sister’s flight jacket whipping around a tree up head.

 _“Paige!?”_ Her voice came out strangled, and she started running faster, dodging around large ferns and snarling tree roots. Low hanging branches lashed at her face.

But still her sister avoided capture, gliding along the forest floor at an increasingly uncatchable pace.

A laugh, her sister’s laugh; echoing.

_“Paige!”_

Terror ignited every nerve as Rose pushed forward, desperate, until the greenery began to thin and she saw someone there on the other side of the trees.

Before she could reach them, her foot caught, sprawling her forward. She fell out onto her hands and knees, breathing heavy. All she could see were a pair of shoes, right in front of her. No, not shoes. Boots.

_“The Otomok system? That brings back memories.”_

Rose looked up just in time for Hux, back in his First Order finest, to bend down and loop the cord of her pendant around her neck, just like on the _Finalizer_. He was supposed to say something smarmy, and then she’d bite him, but in this vague amalgamation of the past and her subconscious, he didn’t. Instead, he _pulled_. The necklace bit into the back of her neck, compelling Rose to stand as he hauled her closer with it. And then she was pulling him into her arms, wrapping him in a hug, just like in the base’s fresher.

_“Your friends would think less of you.”_

Rose shivered, his voice ghosting over the shell of her ear.

 _“I’m a bastard,”_ he said. _“Pathetic.”_

She shook her head in response, burying her face in his shirt.

 _“_ _Troublemaker,”_ he muttered, voice fond. Or had she just imagined it that way? Imagined the look on his face when he said it?

Warm. It smelled like soap and like _him_

She held him tighter

 _“You’ve never flown anything this fast.”_ A new voice made her heart squeeze; made her pull back and look up. There was Paige, in her uniform, standing there and smiling down at her.

* * *

The morning alarm chimed loud from the desk, jerking Rose awake. She groaned, pulling her pillow up over her head and mashing it down around her ears. How was it morning _already?_ It felt like she’d only just fallen asleep!

“Ugh,” she grumbled, momentarily confused as to why waking came with a tight knot of worry in her stomach, but then she remembered the end of the previous night, coupled with her strange and vivid dream.

Oh, that’s right, she thought, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. She had a giant ginger problem.

_“Please, Rose.”_

A cold wave of regret welled up inside her. She’d done as he’d requested, left him when he’d asked, but she could have stayed. She could have refused to abandon him in his grief. Instead she ran away, and kept him locked in his cage.

No, that wasn’t going to happen again.

As she walked her way to the stockade later that morning, Rose could only imagine the look Poe would be giving her if he knew what decision she’d come to. It was probably exactly the thing he’d warned her against; he wouldn’t be amused.

Well, Poe just didn’t understand the rapport she’d been able to build with Hux. He’d bared his soul to her, weather he’d wanted to or not. He was a ruthless killer, but he was a piteously lonely, angry, and misguided man as well. But he was getting better, she knew it.

He’d responded to her offers of brief companionship, of co-workmanship. Even if he did so begrudgingly, he still did so. That was progress. That was trust.

Why couldn’t they show him the same in kind?

“Good morning.” Entering the stockade, she tried to balance her voice between cheerful and polite reservation. She wasn’t sure how he was going to react to seeing her after their conversation the night before.

Hux was already sitting up on his pallet, back ridged against the wall; blankets tucked and crisp. He looked terrible. She wondered if he’d even slept at all. He didn’t seem surprised to see her.

“Sorry about last night,” she said. He frowned. Rose rubbed her arm with the opposite hand. “I know what it’s like to lay awake, thinking about all the bad stuff… so, I’m sorry I brought it up. I wasn’t trying to imply that you’re… you’re not…” How was she supposed to say this? “You’re not weak, Hux.”

He scrutinized her, searching, before he relented, like he could allow himself to be cross with her but couldn’t bother to be furious. He ran a hand over his face, running his fingers into his hair. “Last night, we… we rather meandered into that whole conversation, if I recall. I was being… insensitive.”

“Doesn’t mean you deserve to have me prying into every last painful memory.”

“You’re an incessant busybody. I can hardly fault you for adhering to your base nature.”

“Oh, ha-ha,” Rose said flatly, catching the playful note in his jab. He was always just like a cat, playing with his prey, wasn’t he? Still, his willingness to engage in banter soothed her worry like a balm.

He frowned as she unlocked the cell door. “Another expedition?”

“Sort of. Actually, I’ve decided I’m moving you into the barracks.” She’d already made up her mind, so that was that. She bent to pick up the empty bowl, beer, and fork on the ground inside the cell’s door.

“I—” His surprise turned suspicious whip-quick. “Are you sure?”

“You’d rather stay here?”

His mouth pressed thin as he thought. Eventually, he asked, “No cuffs?” His voice ticked up at the end of the question, rife with disbelief, eyebrows pulled up and together to wrinkle his forehead.

“No cuffs,” she confirmed. “Come on, I need a cup of caff and I know we have tea in the canteen. Besides, I have to return your bowl.”

He stared at her; expression unreadable.

“It’s not a trick,” she urged. When he didn’t move, Rose sighed, posture sagging a bit. She tried a different tact. “You said you don’t deserve my trust. That I’m delusional for thinking that you’ve earned a bit of it. Fine. Prove me a fool. Here’s your chance.”

He glared; not at her, but at the ground between them.

He didn’t deserve what she was offering him.

_“Just… try not to be so hard on yourself all the time.”_

An outstretched hand.

Hux pressed his lips together. “Tea, you say?”

Rose’s mouth quirked upward into a small smile. He could see she was pleased, even if she tried to hide _how_ pleased.

“Don’t gloat,” he said stiffly, almost like an order, picking up his datapad as he stood and walked toward her.

“I’m _not_ ,” she snapped, barely containing how delighted she was, stepping out of his way.

He paused, for just a moment, on the threshold of his jail cell, before walking out into the hall. When he did so… nothing happened. The world was the same. Except, the cage was behind him, and he wouldn’t be going back inside of it at the end of the day.

He almost smiled.

Rose was right there at his shoulder. “Come on,” she said, clapping him on the back of the arm, but not steering him this time. It was a simple, friendly gesture.

He wrinkled his nose at her back, but followed after.

They wove their way across the common, laughter and various sounds of good-nature bubbling up from innumerable areas of the camp as people worked and joked together. It was a curious thing for Hux to behold. He was use to tight-button regulation. This was… _rabble_.

Not that, in the past, he hadn’t had a good rapport with those who’d served under him, but there had always been a sense of order. Decorum. Everything about the Resistance’s lax atmosphere added extra weight to the blow of the Order’s defeat.

Thankfully, most were too focused on their tasks to notice just who was walking in their midst. At least for now, his luck was holding.

As they strolled into the cafeteria, Rose deposited the dirty bowl and fork into a grey bin sitting on one of the bench-like tables.

“Drink station is back here,” she said over her shoulder, leading him towards the back of the large room, weaving through rows of empty seating. It was between meals, so there were only a few people milling about.

One of the tables in the back contained all the dishware; a hodgepodge of different sizes and color, materials and wear. It looked members of the Resistance had carried these items, their personal things, from whatever various planets and star systems they called home. In their escape or emigration, they’d taken something with them, a pair of bowls, a cup, and it had all ended up here.

Rose plucked a yellow mug from the group; slightly faded, and with cracks in the glazing. She moved to the tall caf dispenser, turning the knob on the front.

Hux surveyed his choices. It made him feel odd, like he was sifting through a box of people’s memories.

He opted for a tall black tumbler; utilitarian an unassuming.

The tea choices were underwhelming; a mix of a variety of sachets all together in a single bowl. He plucked them out one at a time and gave each a fair bit of scrutiny before choosing. It was no gold-label brand of Tarine tea, but it smelled black and bitter enough.

To the side, hands wrapped around her warming mug, Rose watched him with a small smile.

Every movement he made was like he’d practiced it before. Each flick of his wrist was precise, long nimble fingers careful with the weight behind his movements. He was fascinating to watch, much more expressive than she’d remembered seeing him in the hanger on the _Finalizer._ On-duty versus off-duty, perhaps.

She enjoyed watching the emotions that flickered over his face as he chose his cup, then his tea, eyebrows quirking along with his thoughts.

It was rather endearing, she thought. Cute.

Rose leaned forward, pointing toward a large pitcher resting on a hotplate, Hux having cast his gaze about the table, looking a little lost.

He filled the mug with steaming water from the pitcher. “Do you have your chronometer?”

Rose blinked. “Uh, yeah.”

“Timer. Three and a half minutes.”

It took her a moment to figure out what he was asking, but he waited for her, sachet of tea hovering over the mug, pinched delicately between his fingers. When she set the timer with a beep, he finally dropped it into the water.

“We may walk while it steeps,” he informed her, in a clipped, formal tone.

Rose nodded with raised eyebrows. Apparently, tea was very serious business. “Yeah, it’s just this way,” she motioned to a connecting corridor, leading them down a utilitarian hallway.

It was quite narrow, the hallway, having been carved out of the rock around it. Hux was fairly certain two people, only a bit broader than he, would have a hard time passing each other without angling. The dull lighting above was a far cry from any Destroyer’s.

“So,” Rose continued, “I should tell you now that there’s no real organization to dorm assignments.”

Hux sniffed. “I’m shocked.”

She rolled her eyes. “They’re numbered, so you should be able to find your way regardless. Most people are bunked two to a room, but… I don’t think that’ll work very well in your particular situation.”

“Because you fear for my safety,” Hux supplied solemnly.

“Because you’re probably a nightmare to live with.”

He bristled. “I’ll have you know that I’m quite meticulous about my living quarters.”

“You know you’re not helping your case when you say that, right?”

Hux was about to open his mouth in retort when they reached their destination, stopping in front of a door with the numbers 284 on the wall. Rose punched in the access code and the door slid open, revealing the room beyond.

“I went ahead and programmed in a sequence. One three one seven two five eight.” A call-back to his spy code. “Thought it might be easy for you to remember,” she said with a small smile.

“Indeed,” he muttered, moving around her and into the room with genuine interest.

There were two bunks, the kind that hung out from the wall with an extra leg underneath for support, one on either side of the room. The bunk on the left was folded up, allowing for some extra space for the desk with its built-in light; the chair; the open and empty closet.

It was so… homely. So unlike his quarters aboard any of the ships he had resided on. There was brief, wistful longing for his ice-blue sofa, his first personal requisition when he’d been given private residence aboard the _Absolution_. He’d endeavored to keep his personal surroundings in refined order; stark and neat and rimmed in fine, smooth silver. A covetous part of his heart did enjoy beautiful things, elegant in their utilitarianism. 

This room was not that.

It was low-lit, walls uncovered metal sheeting rather than smooth, formed panels. The bunks were more like cots, not a proper bed. Everything seemed dated and a little bit rusty.

Rose leaned against the inside of the door frame; arms crossed loosely over her chest. “Is it acceptable to your delicate sensibilities?” She watched Hux run a long, pale finger over the surface of the desk, pulling it up to look at the dust collected there. “You can clean later.”

He glanced her way, eyebrows jumping. “Oh I can, can I?”

“Yeah,” she said, feeling twitchy at his half-amused look. “We’ve got a job to do. Remember I said I was working on a thing?”

“Why of course,” he said, with a note of thinly-wrought humor, turning back to her. “How could I forget The Thing.”

His height, combined with everything else about him, caused the space to look entirely too small in Rose’s opinion. Bright ginger hair, dark plain clothing, holding a steaming mug and standing there against a normally-familiar bedroom backdrop, staring at her so intensely— it made her feel a little funny.

The alarm on Rose’s chronometer went off, making her jump. “Oh! That—that’s three and a half minutes.” She pressed one of the buttons, cutting off the sound.

Hux plucked the tea sachet out from his drink and dropped into the room’s waste receptacle. When he took a sip, Rose noticed his brows pulling together over the rim of the tumbler in what must have been contentment.

Rose kind of wished he’d do it again. She cleared her throat. “Ah, so The Thing is quite the puzzle. I think you’ll enjoy the challenge. Want a crack at it?”

She saw his posture straighten, some weight rolling forward onto the balls of his feet.

He was excited.

He took another sip of tea before muttering, “I could be convinced...”

If he was trying to feign disinterest, he wasn’t doing a very good job of it. Or maybe she’d just been around him long enough now to recognize his little quirks. Rose smirked. “Well, let’s swing by the command center and see if I can’t persuade you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thanks to everyone on the Gingerose discord (and twitter) for being an amazing, supportive group of people who inspire me every single day!


	9. Chapter 9

Hux watched the back of Rose’s head as they walked, her hair buns bouncing, keeping a pace behind her in the small corridor. “Much of my helping the Resistance seems to involve following you down hallways, rather than any actual work on my part.”

He was keen to get his hands on something actually worth his time.

“So impatient,” he heard her say in a teasing voice. “If only you were this eager in the beginning.”

He huffed out his nose. “I hardly put up much of a fight.”

Rose scoffed. “ _Hardly?”_

They walked together into the command center, a room with one wall open to the outside, much like the rest of the base’s interior. Seeing it all laid out before him, it was a little more than a tad surreal. How long had he wanted to wipe the Resistance from the galaxy? And now, having been defeated, he was being led into the heart of their operations like an ally.

The heart of their operations…

Hux surveyed the dimly lit room with bland surprise. He wasn’t expecting anything high-tech, not at all, but seeing all the cobbled together machinery and ancient displays… it would have been so easy to infiltrate their systems if only he’d been given the opportunity.

_‘Prove me a fool. Here’s your chance.’_

But now.. any fleeting thoughts of sabotage or clandestine reconnaissance fell immediately sour. It might have had something to do with him picturing the horror and disappointment on Rose’s face.

Hux watched as Resistance members flitted from one station to another, squawking into their headsets.

“Remember we saw all those ion signatures near Brysis?”

Hux nodded absently, eyes fixed on one of the holotables. A blue rendering of the Order’s ship-building facilities hung in the aftermath of a dogfight. “The two _Star Destroyers_ and a _Dreadnought.”_

“Right. Once we’re done with the First Order near Fondor, we want to get control of that _Dreadnaught_. With that ship’s firepower, we can take out the two _Destroyers_ , then we can make the _Dreadnaught_ self-destruct.”

“Sounds like the perfect job for your two flyboy Generals,” he said with a hint of distain, turning his attention back to her.

“Yeah, but even if the _Dreadnaught_ isn’t fully staffed, that’s still a lot for two people to pull off, don’t you think?”

“You’d be surprised…”

A shorter girl with a tight braid spanning the crown of her head gave him a dirty look as they walked up.

Rose brightened. “Hey Connix.”

The woman, Connix, pursed her lips. “Hi Rose…” She eyed Hux suspiciously, like he might pull a blaster on them at any second. The ice in her gaze was palpable.

“How’s the mission going?” There was a forced-normalcy to Rose’s voice. Hux’s hands curled into fists, uncomfortable. This was so risky for her. His brows knit, throwing a look towards Rose she could not see.

The woman spoke in a hushed tone, maybe thinking it best to be discrete with Hux around, “Pretty smooth, thanks to your briefings.” Her gaze darted back toward him. “And _you,_ ” she added, like she loathed even acknowledging his presence.

Hux looked down his nose at her, rising to meet that challenging spark in her eye.

Rose glanced over her shoulder, catching the slow curl of his lip into a sneer. She rolled her eyes.

“Knock it off.” She said, and looked to Connix too. “Both of you, geez. We’re all working together now.”

“He still has to answer for what he’s done,” Connix hissed, finger jabbing in his direction.

“Oh, I assure you, I will,” Hux muttered sharply.

Rose flinched. His eyes, when he’d said that, glittered with a deep, dark emotion she could not identify.

“For now,” he continued in an even voice, “you’d be wise to understand that I’m helping you.”

The blonde gave him a horrible glare, but then glanced at Rose. She huffed, relenting. Her shoulders dropped. “Fine. As much as I hate the idea, fine. And it wasn’t much of a fight anyway, to be honest.” Connix motioned to the blue-cast images floating before them. “They’ve already overpowered all the light fighters. They had no idea we were coming. We took them completely by surprise.”

Hux squinted at the maps display, trying to discern their strategy, seeing the result of what was on screen and working back from there. Hux was surprised to feel, in doing so, a strange glimmer of familiarity. There was something about standing in the middle of the central nervous system of a large-scale operation that felt oddly comfortable.

He’d found it hard to know himself as of late, certainly after Rose had stripped him very near to the bone with her words and intensity, but there, in the war room, Hux felt some kind of echo of what made him. It was a strange sensation, since battle and death were things he had to learn to relish; adopt for survival. Misplaced or not, the feelings it gave him came with a strange kind of strength.

He never thought he’d get the opportunity to feel that way again; somewhat like himself.

He stared at Rose, his hands moving to clasp behind his back almost unconsciously. Did she understand that?

Rose caught his look, but couldn’t seem to identify it. She smiled; a bit encouraging, a bit questioning.

_“Great work everyone!”_

Hux’s broke eye contact, head snapped to the side as Dameron’s voice came crackling through on one of the comms, along with a cry of victory.

“Poe!” Connix pressed her hand to her headset. “We’ve been given the all clear. Everyone willing to surrender has been evacuated onto the planet’s surface. You’re a-go for cleanup.”

So, they were giving those who laid down their arms safe passage? How predictable.

As for the First Order ships, if Dameron were smart, he would concentrate their firepower on—

_“Alright, everyone, you heard her! Aim for the fuel storage bays!”_

—where they stored fuel rods for newly assembled hyperdrives…

Hux frowned, scowling at the holo.

“ _Blow these things up and we can all go home!”_

A jubilant whoop echoed from the comms, and from some of the Resistance members in the room around them.

“Charming,” Hux spat.

“Hey, Connix,” Rose said then, “do you still have that datapad? The one about the TIE fighters?”

TIE fighters, hum? Hux tried not to look too interested as the blonde turned to grab the pad from the desk behind her, handing it over. She looked less than pleased when Rose handed it off to him.

“By the way, Yolsa came in here earlier. He wanted to know when you’ll be finished with that cargo freighter.”

Rose pressed her palm to her forehead. “Crap. I totally forgot I said I’d be done with the engine today. I can probably take a look at it… this afternoon?” She shot a look between Hux and Connix, jaw working.

“If you require my aid, you’ll have it,” Hux said, with straight-backed formality. Rose gave him an appraising look. “I’m your assistant, remember?”

Connix’s mouth opened slightly as she stared between them, mystified at the inside joke, trying to figure out what his real motives were.

Nevertheless, a conspiratorial glimmer flitted across Rose’s features. She grinned. “That’s right.”

Hux shifted his weight from one foot to the other, trying not to look at her eager expression. He didn’t realize how much more awkward it would be when she was like this and there were other people around to witness it. The blonde Lieutenant was still standing right there.

Hux distracted himself by scrolling through the datapad. It was mostly schematics of TIE fighters and other large First Order ships, along with the maps they’d compiled using the escape pod’s data.

“As I was saying,” Rose said, seeing him perusing the files, “we need a decoy to get aboard the _Dreadnaught_. We thought maybe if we can get everyone _outside_ the ship, it would be easier to commandeer it. That’s where our fleet comes in.”

He frowned. “Your fleet will have all three ship’s compliment of TIE fighters to contend with. All at once.”

“Right. And how many TIE fighters would that be?”

He didn’t even need to think of the answer, he knew it automatically. “Two hundred and sixteen. Each ship is required to keep six squadrons combat-ready; twelve ships each.”

“ _That’s_ the problem. Our fleet can’t take out a Drednaught and three Destroyers if they’ve got so many light fighters to contend with. We had help during the battle of Exogol, but a lot of our reinforcements have returned back to their home systems to deal with their own problems.”

Hux was all business. “What would you have me do?”

“You have experience with large-scale weapons. I thought maybe you’d have an idea on how to take on a whole bunch of TIE fighters all at once.”

Large-scale weapons, hm?

He made sure his expression was very carefully controlled. He’d feared this once before, when he first toyed with the idea of aiding the Resistance; that they’d force him to create another Starkiller. It was a mark upon his soul that he had yet to grapple with, and the idea of pouring what felt like another near-lifetime’s amount of work into something that could just be blown to pieces in the end left him feeling terribly hollow.

“I suppose…”

She must have saw him hedging. “Whatever you can come up with is fine. It doesn’t need to be devastating, we just need _something_. A distraction. I thought maybe we could identify a flaw in the TIE’s design; an overlooked defect we could use to our advantage.”

Hux stared down at the datapad, trying to wrack his brain. A flaw in the TIE’s design? Well, there was no such thing. They were the pinnacle of light fighter technology, even if the Resistance could hold their own against them at times…

Poe’s voice came through on the relay. _“Yahoo! Great job, everyone!”_

Hux glowered, pointing a finger in the direction of the comms station. “It’s impossible to think with him yelling like that.”

Connix rolled her eyes. “You don’t have to stand here if you don’t want to,” she snapped. “Looming over us like some giant, ginger loth-bat.”

Rose bit her lip to stifle a laugh.

Hux cleared his throat, glaring daggers. “I’ll take a turn around the grounds, then,” he said stiffly. Walking always did help him think. He’d stalked the halls of more than one Star Destroyer in his time, ruminating over one particular problem or another.

Rose nodded. “Sure thing.”

Connix gave her _a_ _look_ , one which would not usually given between soldiers of differing rank, but one most definitely shared between friends.

So, even close comrades disapproved of Rose letting him wander about. Hux was hesitant to even ask if Dameron knew, but it was evident that Connix wasn’t about to contradict Rose’s decision.

Good, he thought. At least some people around here respected Rose’s authority and good sense.

He coaxed his expression back into something more professional, nodding at Connix, “Lieutenant.” Then he turned, inclining his head slightly in Rose’s direction. “Lieutenant General.” Something in her gaze sparked hot, and Hux smirked in satisfaction. He knew she’d like that.

Hux could feel the blonde’s piercing gaze against his back as he turned to walk out, but the woman next to her was radiating pure satisfaction, so he let any affronted feelings slide.

Just outside the base’s wide, mossy overhang, someone had cobbled together a little bench of stone blocks. Mind abuzz, he meandered toward it, chin between his thumb and forefinger, scrolling the datapad with the thumb of his other hand.

Now that there was silence, or at least, there wasn’t some idiot yelling into his cockpit microphone, he could think straight. So, what could take out an entire squadron or more of TIE fighters? If he thought of it more like a training exercise, he could moderately overlook that fact that he was plotting against the very thing he helped build. He pushed down a roil of nausea at the thought, focusing on the task at hand.

A distraction would work, for a brief period, but infiltration took time, and they would be strolling headlong into a _Dreadnaught,_ not some sleepy moon base _._ No, they had to figure out something that could renter the TIEs incapacitated for a long period of time.

Something that could work on multiple fighters all at once, all in a big group.

Well, it’s not like they could round them up in a big net or anything…

He paused.

Wait.

A net.

A muscle under his eye twitched.

_Net._

_Network._

What if they could disable the TIEs through the First Order network?

All the squadrons were still using the old computer system, for maps and communications. If they could upload a virus onto the shared network, they could knock out an untold number of ships all in one go.

He sunk down to sit on the small stone bench, floored by the brilliant simplicity of it.

It was with fleeting internal shame that he was reminded of how far he’d fallen; from a once-feared General to now actively devising plans to take out First Order ships. But he imagined Rose’s face, lighting up as he told her his solution to their problem, and the pain was drowned out by a rush of excitement.

He should go and tell her—

“Well, well, what do we have here? A rat that’s been let out of its cage?”

Hux glanced up from the datapad, leaning back slightly to look at the figure before him.

It was a female Pantoran in a sleeveless shirt, muscular arms crossed over her chest. By the looks of her fatigues she was a pilot, and she was looking at Hux like she’d relish nothing more than to wring his neck.

At her shoulder was another hulking alien figure; wide and fleshy.

“Do excuse me,” he said stiffly, lip twitching up in distaste as he stood. His jaw clenched as a bulbous hand came down and ripped the datapad from his grasp. When he turned to face them, he tried to throw his shoulders into that once-familiar posture of power. “I require that back, if you don’t mind.”

“Oh, we mind,” the Pantoran said, with no small amount of venom. “And we know exactly who you are, _General._ ”

“Perceptive,” he deadpanned, “seeing as I wasn’t trying to conceal my ide—”

“Can it, you bastard.”

Now _that_ got his blood up. His hands clenched into fists, but he kept them at his sides. There was a crowd growing now, a few other Resistance members pausing their tasks once they realized what was going on.

Damn it, he thought, eyes darting around the quickly tightening semi-circle of onlookers.

Hux couldn’t let them get a rise. He couldn’t fight them. He couldn’t _win_. There were too many of them now.

He heard the crowd whispering amongst themselves. Echoes of _“what’s going on?”_ and _“who’s that?”_ mingled alongside gasps of, _“that’s General Hux!”_ and _“no way”, “I’d heard a rumor—”, “Captive?!”, “He’s the one, I told you.”, “The Hosnian system, that’s right”; “Murderer”._

His gaze fell again onto the Pantoran. “I’m sure your _General pilot_ would be most displeased if his highly-valued informant was killed by his subordinates.”

“Poe’s not here,” the large fleshy alien, clutching the datapad, grunted haltingly. “Off planet.”

His adrenaline spiked, and he made to move, to step away, but a hand caught him by the front of his shirt, wrenching him forward and then tossing him back again. Hux sprawled back against the stone bench, losing his footing. Pain spiderwebbed across his back, the lip of the stone bench hitting him just under the shoulder blades. He groaned, tumbling fully to the ground, arm braced as he landed on his side.

“Get up,” the Pantoran growled, taking a step toward him.

Hux drew in a lungful of air, voice jumping an octave. “So you can strike me down again? What sort of tactician do you take me for?”

“Pathetic,” he heard someone mutter.

“It’s called _strategy.”_

“Shut up!” The Pantoran cracked her knuckles. “I don’t care if he starts standing up or flat on the floor. This is still going to hurt.” She bent towards him, cocking her arm back, “This is for my family, you piece of—”

“Stop!”

A familiar voice.

But by then the clenched fist of the female pilot was already swinging down toward his face.

And then someone was there, by his side, _in front of him,_ and the Pantoran’s look of rage broke into shock and horror. The pilot pulled most of her strength at the last possible moment, but the blow nevertheless caught Rose on the side of her upper arm, glancing off her shoulder. Hux heard her noise of surprise as the force of it dropped her onto her side next to him.

A rush, terrible and furious, moved through him so swiftly he almost couldn’t breathe.

Hux snarled, jumping to his feet, his own pain forgotten. All he saw was red.

“ _How **dare** you strike a_ _Commanding Officer!”_ The Pantoran was startled by the tone of his voice, eyes darting down to where Rose was pushing herself off the ground, but Hux didn’t care. He could _feel_ the rage flushing his face; teeth barred. “ _You should be court-martialed **immediately!** Pulled from active duty! Stripped entirely of rank!” _He screamed in the pilot’s face.

The Pantoran actually took a step back, and Hux could feel the familiar way in which her sudden fear coalesced into a dangerous, flickering fire deep inside of him _._ It felt _good._

“Are you afraid of me?” He asked, no longer shouting; voice low and calm and much more threatening. The pilot’s mouth opened but nothing came out. He took another step towards her. “You should be. You should be immensely grateful that you’re not under _my_ _command_. I would have you shot for your insolence. On site. _Rebel scum.”_ Except with that, he must have pushed just a bit too far. The Pantoran seemed to snap out of her trance, and this time, when she moved to strike him, Rose wasn’t there to take the blow.

She was fast; strong. Hux barely saw her fist before it caught him on the left side of his jaw. After so many bruises and broken bones from Ren throwing him across the room, he’d almost forgotten how much a fist to the face could hurt.

His head whipped to the side, punctuated with a yelp. Hux tasted blood, stumbling, and fell to his hands and knees in the dirt.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry!”

Bodies stepped over and around him, trying to get to Rose, who was slowly climbing to her feet. By the sounds of it, the Pantoran was besides herself.

“I didn’t see you, Rose! Are you alright? I can’t believe I hit you! Gods, I’m so sorry Rose! I didn’t mean to—”

Hux was dazed, but he still heard her voice. It hovered somewhere between disbelief and ire when she said, “I know you didn’t, Rajal, but you can’t just go around hitting people!”

“But he’s—”

“I don’t care what he is, or was, or anything! He’s with _us_ now and you’re not going to bring anyone back from the dead by beating him to death!” She let out a frustrated noise. “If anything, Hux is right. You _should_ be in trouble. I’m going to recommend Poe ground you when he gets back, it’s what you deserve.”

The Pantoran woman was silent at that.

“Everyone get back to work,” Rose ordered. _“Now,”_ she said, in a commanding tone that Hux could admire even as he tried to find his bearings through the pain.

Suddenly, there was a hand slipping under his arm.

“Come on,” Rose’s voice was close. He blinked, wiping at the wetness at the corner of his mouth and wincing. “Oh shit, you’re bleeding.”

He swallowed a bit of the blood, and tried to tug his arm away from her, but she was strong and he was dazed.

“You can fight me later, Hux. Right now, I need you to get up.”

He willed his legs to move, even as the throbbing in his jaw threatened to consume him. He stumbled a step when he righted himself, but Rose held him firm.

“This way.” She steered him left of the hanger, back toward the barracks. The lingering vestiges of the crowd parted for them as they went, stepping wide to let them pass. He wasn’t sure if he was smirking in satisfaction or not; he couldn’t really feel his face at the moment.

They walked down a different hallway than before, and as Rose opened the door to one of the bunks, Hux finally realized why it all looked so different.

“This isn’t my room,” he tried to say through the split in his lip.

“No. It’s mine.”

She led him over to the little desk and chair against the wall. He sat, still feeling a bit dizzy, screwing his eyes shut to try and reclaim some semblance of equilibrium. But closing his eyes just made him nauseous, so he forced opened them again.

“Today was supposed to be about building trust,” Rose lamented, puttering around the room for whatever she was looking for. “So you’d feel comfortable out of that stupid dungeon. They weren’t supposed to go and gang up on you.”

He could have told her, before she’d even unlocked his cell door that morning, that what had just happened was always bound to happen. Because it was _him,_ and he’d done so very much to so very many. Didn’t she know that? She was likely the _only reason_ he hadn’t been dragged into the common and gutted back when he’d first arrived.

“Surely you haven’t forgotten who I am.”

She paused, and turned to look at him, head cocked to one side and eyes narrowed slightly. “Sometimes. Sometimes I think I do. Just for a moment.”

“Unwise.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t need another lecture, okay?” She returned to him with an opened canteen and a strip of cloth, squatting in front of his chair to get a good look at him. She grimaced. “Your lip’s split. Damn, she really hit you hard.”

“I did provoke her.”

“What were you trying to do, anyway?” She smiled a little, incredulous. “Defend my honor?”

He didn’t answer, just frowned, which stung terribly. “What were _you_ trying to do?” He threw the question back at her, irritable. “Jump in front of me?”

“I didn’t _try._ I was _successful_. Big difference.” She took the folded bandana and pressed it to the rim of the canteen, tipping it to the side, water sloshing. “Now shut up so I can do this,” she muttered, reach forward with her free hand to turn his jaw.

Hux twitched away from the contact instinctually, Rose’s hand stilling in the space between them. He looked from her hand to her face and back again, trying to weigh the decision of allowing her to touch him in such an intimate way.

“Hey. It’s okay. It’s just me,” she whispered, voice low and even. He didn’t move a muscle, so she took that as careful consent. He watched as she closed the little distance left, resting her fingertips against the side of his chin and jaw, turning his head away by a degree or two.

Hux shivered, very slightly, but let her do it. He knew he didn’t need to feel this way with her. Rose wasn’t his father, fists clenched and falling like stones; she wasn’t Snoke, casual with his backhanded humiliation; she wasn’t Ren, whom he feared most of all. She was different. Kind. He stared at the wall across the room, trying to concentrate on the warmth of her fingers instead of dark memories, and noted that the pounding in his head seemed to ease as she touched him.

Rose dabbed at the split in his lip and the dried rivulet of blood, careful not to pull too much at the wound. Once or twice she thought she must have accidentally pressed rather hard, but it didn’t look like he was reacting to the pain. If anything, he was in agony just allowing her to touch him. Watching his uneasy, gun-shy expression, something in her heart broke to pieces.

Without allowing time for second guessing, she let her fingers relax, sliding the side of his face into the full warmth of her palm, cupping his cheek and jaw. She heard his oh-so-faint exhale of surprise, eyes darting over to hold her gaze; wide, and green, and alight with fear.

Rose tried to give him a reassuring smile, fingering the cloth in her other hand so she could use a fresh corner. As she concentrated on her work, she felt him gradually rest a bit more of his weight against her hand, letting her cradle the side of his face. When she stole a glance, she saw his eyes were closed, expression more relaxed.

Like this, his face not scowling or smirking, she could really appreciate how delicate his features were. How handsome.

He was warm, too. And trusting. Of her.

Rose swallowed hard.

When she was done, she pulled the cloth away, but kept her other hand where it rested against his cheek. Absently, she caressed his skin of his cheekbone with her thumb. Soft. He didn’t open his eyes, but his brows did pull together, and she could feel his very slight, hesitating, press into her palm; the barest nuzzle. Cautious and tentative.

“I want to hurt them,” she whispered, something dark and venomous seeping into her words. Slowly, his eyes opened, gaze questioning as he regarded her. “The people who did this to you, Armitage.” She didn’t mean the split lip. “I want—” She knew it was wrong, this desire to punish out of anger, but she couldn’t imagine the pain he’d endured, that had made him like this, without also fantasizing about socking his brutish father, and anyone else involved, right in the mouth.

She wanted to say something, ease his fear, but her words got stuck in her throat. Instead, Rose shifted her hand up to brush back the ginger locks that had fallen out of place, fingernails raking into his hair. Gods, it was soft.

She saw his Adam’s apple bob, his eyelids fluttering with a sigh.

Something electric skittered down her spine.

What the hell was she doing?

Rose didn’t care.

She didn’t.

She’d _wanted_ to touch him.

To keep touching him.

She wanted to—

Rose worked to restrain herself, and she did so, but barely. After a beat, she shifted away, but before she could pull back completely, his hand darted out to grip her forearm, stilling her retreat. It was a strong, near-crushing hold, like he was afraid she might suddenly disappear.

Before Rose could open her mouth, he turned his head and pressed a soft kiss to the inside of her wrist, and then let her go. It happened so fast.

Rose stepped back, clutching the rag in her hand, skin burning from the touch of his lips.

Her mind raced, heart fluttering.

Was… was that supposed to be some kind of ‘thank you’?

Hux was flushed, blush high on his cheeks, face still turned to the side. She could only see him in profile, but even so, he was red to the tips of his ears.

She had to break the silence, say something to his moment of boldness, no doubt sparked by her touch, and how she’d _liked it_ , but he was quicker.

“Are you—” Hux tried to speak, but his words faltered. “Your shoulder… is… is it—”

His concern made her smile. “I’m fine, really, but thank you.” Her heart was beating so fast it made breathing more than a little difficult. She turned around, trying to hide the color in her cheeks. “Ah… I’ll… uh… probably use a heating patch tonight…? Let me get some bacta gel for your cut though, otherwise you’re going to swell up.”

“Thank you,” he said quietly when her back was turned, and then, “For stopping them before they tore me apart. And for… tending to me. Again.”

“I am pretty nice, huh?” She rifled through the small medkit against the wall, glad he couldn’t see how she blushed and grinned. The spot on her wrist still tingled. She wondered, if she let him, would everywhere he kiss tingle like that? The thought was reckless; thrilling.

“I’m glad you were able to escape. Off the _Supremacy_.”

Her hands stilled on the box of bacta packets as he spoke. She didn’t turn around, her breathing gone slightly shallow.

“You were my enemy, but… it seems the galaxy might be a better place with you still in it.” He thought of the fire in her eyes, the ferocity in her heart when she’d bit him; the kindness in her touch and the honesty in her words. She was a turbulent swirl of emotions, but warm and radiant, like the churning cores of stars. “Not— not so cold.”

Rose took a long breath. He was going to make her cry. Again.

“I’m not so special, you know,” she said in a small, careful voice. “I’m not the only nice person in the entire galaxy.”

To him she was.

When she turned around with the packet of bacta, he was facing her again, but his head was tilted down, like he was afraid to meet her gaze directly.

It made Rose want to surge forward, to run her hand through his soft hair again, but she reasoned this would be more human contact then he’d probably had in who knows how long, so she needed to take this—whatever this was— very slow. She moved calmly to the table next to him, leaning against it and tearing open the corner of the gel pack. She held it out for him to take, which he did.

“Do you still intend to make me live in the barracks?” He asked, dabbing a small amount of gel onto his finger and then coating the wound. It was cool and numbing, and made the throbbing ebb.

She folded her arms. “You make it sound as if your jail cell would be more comfortable.”

“There’s less of a chance of my throat being slit in the middle of the night when I’m locked in a cage.”

“Your door has a lock on it.”

He grunted, touching the tender part of his jaw. Obviously, he wasn’t going to win this conversation either.

Rose moved to clean up the canteen and the bandana, and as she did so, Hux took the opportunity to cast his gaze about the room. There was a small bunk along either wall, but one of them clearly wasn’t being used.

He wished, fleetingly, that he could just stay there with her instead.

Overstuffed boxes of what looked suspiciously like electronic components and ships’ parts was taking up the space on the cot to the right. Various Resistance propaganda posters were plastered up on the walls and ceiling. Near the wardrobe, more boxes, containing untold secrets, were stacked on the ground and into where one might store one’s shoes. Overtop some of the boxes, a few coats had been haphazardly thrown in a pile.

It was… he hadn’t noticed it before, but he could certainly see it now.

Her room was a _mess_.

Good lord. How did she live like this?

The desk to his immediate left was piled with all sort of knickknacks. Bottlecaps, at least three single earrings with no pair in sight, a hairbrush, a cheap holoprojector.

That last one caught his attention.

He reached for it almost automatically, his curiosity getting the better of him. He turned it on where it rested on the table.

Immediately a warbly blue light unfurled above the base. It was an old model, not quite sophisticated enough to rid the images of its azure tinting.

Two figures sprang to life there. It wasn’t a moving picture, but a static image, and one figure was definitely Rose, perhaps in her later teens, and the other… a slightly older woman with a narrower face and soulful eyes, clearly related.

They were smiling, arms wrapped around each other, leaning forward.

“That’s Paige.”

Hux glanced up to see Rose had come back to stand next to the desk, looking at the image with a faint smile.

“She was the tough one. Talented, pretty…”

He stared at the projected image, swallowing thickly. Rose was all of those things.

After a moment, he turned off the projector. Her sister, Paige, he didn’t like the feeling of seeing her face. It made him uncomfortable.

“Family traits, no doubt,” he said, turning to catch and hold her gaze, hoping she would understand his meaning. Rose looked delighted, if bashful, to hear him say so. It was a pleasing expression on her; pretty. “I lost your holopad,” he added, because he suddenly had to distract himself from wanting her hands on him again. It was a strange, almost counterintuitive desire; one he would have never thought to feel. And yet.

Her touch had been feathery at first, but she’d pushed beyond such hesitancies, hadn’t she? And not out of necessity either; she’d initiated. She’d caressed him, and the feel of her nails in his hair had skittered an unforeseen pleasure down into the bottom of his stomach. It was almost too much to bear; it’s what made him impulsively kiss her hand, even as his heart pounded with anxiety. And she was still there. She hadn’t run screaming from the room. That meant something, surely. 

“I’ll get the holopad back, don’t worry,” Rose replied in a gentle voice, continuing to lean against the table, watching him. Her thigh was resting quite close to his knee.

With his arm still on the desk, he could have reached out and touched her if he wanted to. He did want to. Hux shifted in his chair, sitting up straighter

“Before I was… _accosted_ , I was going to tell you. I think I’ve found a solution to our problem.”

Her face lit up. “Really?”

Hux nodded, tapping a finger on the desk. “We can’t corral the TIEs physically, but what if we could disable them en mass? All the ships connect to the First Order holonet, for navigation and comms. What if we used that network to our advantage? Corrupt them.”

Rose gasped in understanding, leaning forward even more. “A virus!”

“Yes.” His eyes glinted with shrewd enthusiasm, pleased at her reaction. “We let a virus loose into the system, hidden, so when they access the battle network, all the TIEs become infected. We can either have it set to a timer or we can active it manually. All the fighters would be disabled all at once, reduced to floating space debris.”

The air between them sizzled with combined excitement.

“Hux!” Rose gasped. “That’s brilliant!” She didn’t have to move her hand very far for her fingers to cover his. In her elation, she took hold and squeezed. It made his heart tremble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to give a shout-out to all the readers and reviewers over on ficbook.net! I've been translating your reviews and all your wonderful comments mean so very much to me! Thank you!
> 
> A huge thanks to Ashtoret for translating!


	10. Chapter 10

Hux woke early the next morning. His internal clock, set from years of military regimentation, shuffled him into his wing’s communal fresher just before dawn. To his immense relief, the latrine was empty.

Not for the first time in his life, he was thankful they lived in an age where advanced medical technology was common, even for the cobbled-together Resistance. He peeled off the hydrocolloid bacta patch from his jaw; without it, he would have otherwise been swollen and purple.

Rose had given him the patch before he returned to his room, and it had since become swollen with fluid absorbed from the injury. Hux tossed it away into the waste bin, pleased to see that all remained was a faint bluish bruise and a light wincing ache.

He touched the nearly-healed split in his lip with a finger, but then… he moved his left hand slowly to the opposite side of his face, mimicking the way Rose had held him there. It didn’t feel the same. He knew it wouldn’t. But, if he concentrated, he could almost feel the echo of her…

He stared at himself in the mirror, hand still resting on his face, and tried to imagine what Rose saw when she looked at him.

A killer? A traitor? An ally?

Something else entirely?

Despite his keen ability to bury his feelings for the benefit of his goals, for his survival, Hux couldn’t deny that he was captivated by her. She was attractive, yes, but what he felt when she looked at him was far beyond the mere appreciation of her natural beauty.

Her technological brilliance, her wit, her keen insights, and yes, even her big mouth. And when she smiled true, or gave him words of praise or encouragement, he drank it down like an antidote to poison. Why did she have such an effect on him?

Because…

She was the only person he could ever remember without some ulterior motive for him to serve. Yes, she wanted him to help the Resistance, but her interest in _him_ came only from her own free will. Maybe it was because she actually, foolishly, believed in him. In any event, it made him want to live up to her expectations, if only so she would grace him with that addicting warmth of hers.

She made him want to _be better_.

It was dangerous, these feelings, he knew that. It was always dangerous to open yourself up to the whims and the words of others. He learned this, painfully, growing up the way he had. Such lowering of defenses could kill you, quite literally. But… he was man enough to admit that he was far beyond being able to stop himself now.

He wanted her.

Despite the discomfort of letting her near, of letting her _touch_ , he wanted her.

He wanted her when she held his face, like his life, in the palm of her hand… Gentle when she had no cause to be gentle.

Even as a nasty voice inside his head screamed how ill-advised it all was, he wanted to consume her like she’d already consumed him; mind and body alike.

Hux let his hand drop from his face.

It had been so very long since he’d felt anything so intense that was neither rage nor fear. Never anything like this, not for anyone save _her_ , but that had been sorrow; a slow drowning of time and memory. No, with Rose it was light, dragging him up from the water.

Such intensity frightened him, but when he thought of her careful, caring touch, it thrilled him all the same.

* * *

“Are you sure you have to leave?”

It was early, a little past sunrise. Rose hugged her coat around her as she watched Rey climb down the ladder of Luke’s X-Wing, going about her flight preparations.

“I’m sure,” Rey said, dusting off her hands on her breeches. Although there was a note of soft regret in her voice, she was smiling.

Rose shuffled forward. “You’re not even taking BB-8?”

“He’d miss Poe,” Rey said, ducking under the fuselage to check on some of the repairs made in the previous weeks.

Rose wanted to be supportive, but she was worried for her friend. Rey had been so quiet since coming back from Exogol. She’d been absent mostly, trekking deep into the jungle for days at a time. She’d told them it was just her way of making peace; a way to meditate away from the noise of camp. Only Rose knew it was something else. Something _more._

_“I can feel him. In the Force.”_

Her far-off looks and increasing isolation hadn’t been Rey collapsing into herself out of grief. She was learning; searching. For someone.

Rose knew her friend was strong, both in body and in mind, but could Rose really believe what Rey already seemed to take as certain fact? That there was somewhere beyond this world they inhabited? Somewhere beyond life and death and right and wrong?

“They’ll be disappointed you left before they came back.”

Finn and Poe.

Rey waved her hand dismissively as she came out from under the X-Wing. “They’ll get over it. You’ve all got plenty to keep you busy without having me to worry about.” Rose nodded, looking down. “Hey,” Rey’s voice was soft, and her hand came out to touch Rose’s arm. “If you need anything, I’m just a transmission away, remember? Don’t hesitate.” A mischievous grin slanted over her mouth. “Besides, I want updates on everything you’ve got going on with Hux, anyway.”

Rose felt heat creeping up into her cheeks, imagining the look he gave her as he pressed the warm, soft side of his face into her hand, but the other woman didn’t give her a chance to splutter out any kind of thin denial. Rey snorted a laugh, sweeping the shorter woman into a hug instead. She squeezed and Rose squeezed back.

“Be careful,” Rose said, muffled.

“I will.”

“I hope you find him.”

“Me too.”

Rose waited at the edge of the clearing until Rey took off, X-Wing rising above the trees, billowing the grass underfoot. Early morning dew spun into the air, glittering in the morning light as the craft arced away into the sky. Rose watched until Rey winked out of sight into the cloudy, blue sky before turning and heading back towards camp to pour herself a cup of caff.

As she stepped inside the canteen, she stopped short. Apart from a few others milling about, Hux was sitting by himself at one of the tables along the far side of the inner wall, facing slightly away from her in profile. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, he did strike her as an early riser, but she hadn’t thought about the impact of _seeing him there_ , like just another member of the Resistance.

She walked with purpose over to the hot drinks station, reaching for the familiar yellow mug. By the time she turned around, it was obvious he noticed her. Sitting at his solitary table, Hux’s green eyes were fixed upon her, hands folded in his lap, back drawn up straight and proper. The black mug before him was still steaming.

“Hi,” she said in a rough sort of whisper, once she’d padded her way over to the table, not yet sitting. He followed her movement as she came closer, chin tilting up to keep her in his sights. He was wearing a different sweater; a very dark, almost black kind of green.

“Good morning,” he said, carefully amicable.

“You look better,” she replied brightly. The bruise along his jaw was merely a shadow thanks to the bacta. “That’s good.”

The thin-line of his mouth relaxed a bit, as did some of the tension in his shoulders.

The change of demeanor was slight, but she’d noticed anyway. Had he been worried how she’d greet him? They’d parted on pretty good terms the day before. Maybe he was embarrassed; thought she would be cross with him after what he’d done. That’s she’d regret it.

Her free hand closed into a slow fist, the one he’d pressed his mouth to so reverently.

No, she wasn’t mad. She didn’t regret it. In fact, the mere memory of it made her stomach quiver. She’d been floored at how he’d trusted her; it had touched her, deeply. She slid onto the bench across from him, staring at the metal surface of the table to get ahold of herself, before raising her eyes.

His brows pulled together. “You’ve been to the airfield.”

Rose nodded, a little surprised at his correct deduction.

“Rey left. I was seeing her off. I thought she should wait until Poe and Finn got back but she wasn’t having it.”

“Force users,” Hux muttered, eyes slightly rolling with exasperation. He brought the cup of tea up to his mouth, sipping. “The most impatient lot I’ve ever had the misfortune of dealing with.”

Rose snorted, warming her hands with her coffee mug, feeling a comfortable sort of shared silence settle between them. She looked out across the canteen to the where the foliage was encroaching into the building, and then out to the grounds beyond. It would be another warm, balmy day amid their mildly tropical jungle. Rose wondered, if they ever moved the base to a different planet, what kind of place would it be? Would she like it? Would Hux?

She heard him take another long, slow sip of tea, before turning her attention back to the table. He was still watching her. Rose blushed. Had Hux been staring at her the entire time she’d been zoning out?

Under his intense gaze, she fidgeted.

“I was thinking we could work on our computer virus today. I sent a communique to Poe letting him know what we were thinking. I haven’t heard back from him yet, but I think we should go ahead and get started. It’s a great idea, really,” she added with an encouraging expression.

Hux pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, hard, finally looking away.

“I hope you don’t mind,” he said, reaching for something on the bench next to him. “I took the liberty to work on a prototype.”

To her surprise, he laid a datapad on the table between them, sliding it over to her.

Rose’s eyes lit up, lips parting. “Wh— when did you even have the time?”

She reached for the tablet, pulling it toward her. She didn’t even want to begin to ask where he’d found a datapad in the first place. He still wasn’t supposed to have computer access.

“Yesterday evening.”

“Yesterday eve— Do you ever _sleep?”_ She marveled, waking the screen and seeing what he’d offered her.

“Not really, no,” he said with a slight smile, eyes narrowing at her in what could have been fondness. He watched her as she scrolled over the lines of code. She moved to bite her thumbnail in concentration.

“This is a great start,” she said after another moment. “Targets the propulsion systems… through the hyperdrive! So, when they access the holonet for jump coordinates—”

“It shuts down the entire engine system, yes.” He was leaning forward ever so slightly, drawn in by her enthusiasm. With an air of self-satisfaction, he added, “That way your fighters can engage briefly and then escape. The squadrons will try and follow but be unable to do so. They’ll be disabled, but the life support systems remain untouched.”

Rose’s mouth dropped open. “Hux!” He jumped a little at the strength of her outburst.

“You are really very good at this, you know. Too good.” She was almost accusing in her compliments. He went slightly pink.

“It still needs some refinement,” he muttered.

“That’s fine. We can work it out today. What do you think?”

He nodded. “That is acceptable.”

Rose grinned.

* * *

“Uh, yeah… I’d say core destabilization definitely counts as ‘needs refinement’. Forty-five percent chance of _exploding? Really?”_ Rose adopted a look of horror.

Hux sat back in his chair as the simulation ran again. Rose leaned forward, scrutinizing the screen before them, unaware of how her scooting up in her chair caused her knee and part of her leg to press against his where they huddled close to the terminal.

Hux glanced down at the contact, expecting himself to see the curve of her soft thigh against his and twitch away at the mere sight of it. But as he stared, nothing happened. Well, he reasoned, it was far less intimidating than what they’d done the day before, wasn’t it? So, he didn’t move.

“Why is it _doing that?”_ Rose wondered at the simulation with annoyance.

But Hux was still looking down at where she was pressed against him, thoughts misfiring.

She grumbled. “Is the engine not running hot enough or something?” She turned her head to look at him, and Hux’s gaze shot up fast; before she could catch him.

“We could crank up the power capacity. What do you think?”

“If we allow for more than the bare minimum, other systems besides the life support might go online. Any extra power could be rerouted to the impulse engines. As I have already stated, multiple times, you have to leave the fourth relay disconnected. Otherwise—”

“Ugh, you’re right! You’re right, damn it,” she sighed, slouching back, arms coming up to bend back and hang over the top of her chair.

“Well, you don’t have to look so smug about it,” she added at the small smirk pulling at Hux’s mouth.

His brows jumped. _“Smug?”_

Rose rolled her eyes. Cocky ass, she thought, with some affection.

“Ten percent power, directed to the life support systems, is plenty to keep them alive,” he added, perfunctorily.

“Well, yeah, but we can’t have a _forty-five percent chance of them exploding._ That’s insane,” she countered, exasperated. “And no impulse engines means they’re going to need to be rescued anyway. Maybe we could fiddle with the fuel rods? Have only a portion of them engage?”

She went to pull the terminal keyboard over to her, and in doing so, had to reach way across Hux’s lap. He held his breath as her leg pressed further against his own, and as her arm reached out to grab the other side of the keyboard, the whole line of her body stretching out with the gesture.

Hux’s vision glazed over for a moment as he tried to mentally shake himself. “Try the encryption controlling the fuel rods. Just make sure to leave the overall command codes alone. We still want them to function, just not all at once.”

Rose sat slightly forward with the keyboard in her lap, following his direction and navigating to the appropriate lines. Absently, she muttered, “You know a lot about coding.”

“I use to program my own droids”

“Really?”

He nodded. “Modified mouse droids. I taught myself when I was younger. It passed the time.”

She hummed with a small smile as she worked, like the image of it warmed her. Hux swallowed.

“Okay,” she said, typing in a few last keystrokes and hitting the command/run key. “How about now?”

They watched as the simulation ran though, only half the fuel rods engaging in a small percentage of their maximum capacity. The TIE fighter on the screen did indeed die mid-flight, but the chance of ion destabilization clocked in at a mere fifteen percent. “Hey! Look at _that!”_

“Excellent,” Hux said, satisfied.

“We make a good team, huh Assistant?” She gave him a side-long glance, and he noticed the blush on her cheeks.

Before he could open his mouth to respond, Connix came skidding around the corner.

“Hey!”

Both Rose and Hux looked up, and Hux was taken aback by how close they’d ended up sitting. Not just at the nearness of her leg, but how they’d ended leaning in towards one another. He hadn’t really noticed until they broke apart at the Lieutenant’s shout.

Rose was on her feet immediately, and her warmth suddenly, regretfully gone. “What is it?”

“The others are back!”

* * *

“Unbelievable,” Hux muttered darkly, watching as an Upsilon-class command shuttle slowly landed on the airfield next to the Millennium Falcon.

“Wow,” Rose said, impressed.

The group of Resistance members that had come out to watch the returning fighters stood in a half circle at the edge of the airfield, but Rose and Hux broke off to walk towards the Falcon and the First Order shuttle.

The ramp on the Falcon lowered and out came Finn and the Wookiee. As the hulking, furry alien came into view, Hux felt a tremble of fear skitter down his spine. He hadn’t enjoyed the feeling of the creature’s roar on the back of his neck. The beast could easily break him in two. Hux purposely tried to avoid looking at the bowcaster in the Wookiee’s hand.

There came a telltale pneumatic hiss as the ramp to the command shuttle dropped slowly to the ground. Out sauntered Poe, dressed in a First Order pilots’ uniform, cap askew. There was a faint look of displeasure that flitted across the man’s face when he saw Hux, unshackled and roaming free, but he was quick to cover it up with the rest of his troops present.

In a loud, boisterous voice, he spread his arms wide and called, “Well?! What do you think of my new ship, Hugs?!” He motioned with exaggeration. 

I hate that man, Hux thought with a sneer, his hands clenched into fists. Dameron had surely been created with the specific intention of make his life a living hell.

“Oh, don’t look so grumpy,” Poe continued, strolling down the ramp with an air that wouldn’t have flown _for a second_ in the Order. “I come bearing gifts,” he indicated lazily back up the ramp.

Rose’s hands went to her hips. “Where the heck did you guys get a command shuttle?”

Poe shrugged. “Stole it.”

“How obvious,” Hux hissed.

“It’s for the mission,” Poe said to Rose, giving Hux a side-long glance, like he was reluctant to include him in the conversation.

Rose’s eyes darted between the two men. She hadn’t given Poe any kind of warning about moving Hux into the barracks. And he was bound to hear about the scuffle from the day before, too.

Poe smacked his lips. “So, how’s our secret weapon coming along?”

Rose looked at Hux, who was staring at her. Her brows went up, tilting her chin down a fraction, pointedly giving him the opportunity to speak. What was she doing? Trying to get him to report directly to Poe?

Hux felt the back of his neck grow warm. He cleared his throat. “The program to disable the TIE fighters has been refined. We have run a number of simulations in which a subset of the fuel rods have been successfully partitioned. Life support systems will remain functional while all other power, including impulse engines, will remain offline. With only a fifteen percent chance of core failure,” he added as an afterthought. There. He’d said it. Was she happy now?

Rose grinned at him.

Of course, she was.

Poe was looking at him very seriously. “Right. Well.. good job… you two. Perhaps we can have a debrief,” he said to Rose. “You know, just us.”

Rose’s heart sunk. There it was. Oh, she was in trouble.

At that moment, Finn walked up. “Hey, do you want us to start taking the crates into the base?”

“Yeah, that would be great,” Poe said.

Hux frowned, Finn and the Wookiee turning to move up the shuttle’s ramp. “Crates?”

Poe flashed him a grin. “Our disguises!” He waved a hand over his person; at his pilot’s uniform. “What, did you think we were just going to waltz our way onto a Dreadnought without looking the part? Come on, Hugs! Where’s your sense of imagination?”

Hux clasped his hands behind his back. “You couldn’t look the part if your life depended on it, _General_ ,” he said in a formal, yet scathing tone. 

“Oh, well I know that!” Poe let out a bark of laughter. “That’s why we’re taking you with us. _General.”_

* * *

They parted ways after returning to base. Rose hadn’t had a moment to speak to Hux without the others, so she had no idea how he was feeling about being conscripted into the mission. During their return, he seemed to gather everything back behind his cold mask of detachment; she couldn’t read him. He gave her no indication of farewell, but walked past everyone and back down the hall towards the barracks, silent.

Rose watched him go with a tight feeling of apprehension, following the others into their private strategy room.

“Don’t,” Poe said, finger jabbing in her direction as soon as the door was closed and Rose opened her mouth to speak. “I know what you’re going to say,” he continued, “and I want you to know that _I_ _don’t like the idea,_ but I’m going to be overruled anyway, so I don’t want to hear it.”

Her gaze darted around to the other occupants of the small conference room; D’Acy and Finn.

Rose huffed, folding her arms. “How could you _possibly_ know what I was going to say?”

“You want to come with us. On the mission.” Poe’s hands went to his hips.

Okay, so… that was actually exactly what she was going to say…

She gave Poe a sheepish smile, but it was obvious that he was cross.

“She already has the uniform,” Finn said from his seat at the long table, “and she knows her way around First Order ships.”

“She’s the only one he’ll listen to,” D’Acy said in a calm, even voice, perhaps trying to balance Poe’s obvious irritation.

Rose straightened up, feeling a burst of confidence. “That’s right. He trusts me.”

“He doesn’t _trust_ you!” Poe slammed his hand down on the table, making everyone jump. “It’s not real feelings it’s— it’s _capture-bonding!_ He’s just using you!”

Rose’s shoulders shrank. The mere suggestion there, that all that had happened between them was just an act, just him manipulating her; it hurt her deeply in ways she couldn’t even articulate. “Ouch.”

Poe’s fierce expression broke at the small, wounded sound of her voice. He no longer looked mad, but he did look defeated.

“He makes me nervous, Rose,” he all but pleaded. “I don’t trust him. I can’t rely on him.”

Rose threw her hands up. “Then why are you even taking him with you in the first place?”

Poe glowered at her. “He has access. You’d rather I cut the idiot’s hand off to use the fingerprint scanners?” Before she could respond, he added, “Look, I don’t want things to go wrong and for you to end up hurt. Or dead. He’s not worth it.”

“Yes, he is,” she reasoned back, and the emotion in her voice looked to knock Poe back a step. “He’s a whole person, Poe. He’s done horrific things, yes, but life hasn’t been kind to him either. I know it’s hard to stomach, but he’s not what you think he is. He’s not _all_ of what you think he is.”

“Has he apologized?”

Rose stilled, lips parting at his words. “Wh-what?”

Poe shrugged his shoulders high before letting them drop. “Has he said he’s sorry? For what the Orders done? For Starkiller? For Hays Minor? For any of it?”

Rose winced. “He… he said he was glad I didn’t die on the _Supremacy…”_

“Oh. Well. In _that_ case. We should give him a full-on pardon! What a true change of heart the bastards had!”

“Don’t call him that!” Her own voice caught her by surprise, sudden emotion welling up into the back of her throat. Angry heat had rushed her face so fast it made her momentarily dizzy, prickling at her cheeks.

Poe stared at her, mouth hanging open, unable to gather words.

From across the room, D’Acy cleared her throat. “There’s no question Rose would be an asset to the mission. You’ve done really great work with Hux, Rose. You should be proud of yourself.”

It was supposed to be a compliment, but all Rose felt was shame. All the work she’d done for the Resistance, and she’d been enjoying her time with Hux for completely selfish reasons.

She glanced over and saw Finn looking at her with a peculiar expression. She thought it must be disappointment, and lowered her gaze.

“So,” she said in a controlled voice, “what happens now?”

* * *

Hux paced his quarters, which, given its small size, was not a particularly satisfying endeavor. He’d returned directly to his bunk when Rose had gone off with the others, still uneasy about being seen roaming the grounds without her presence.

He hoped Dameron wasn’t giving her too hard of a time. He certainly hoped she wasn’t going to be demoted.

There came a chime at the door, stilling him in yet another turn about the room.

He thought it might be Rose, but to his surprise, when he pressed the command panel and the door slid open with a hiss, he came face to face with Finn.

“Hey,” the man said, holding a heavy, tightly-wrapped parcel in his arms.

Hux stood in the doorway, unwilling to invite him in. “Can I help you?”

Finn’s eyebrow rose up. “Maybe. I’m here to brief you.” He glanced around Hux’s shoulder to the room beyond expectantly. Hux sighed and stepped out of the way of the door, motioning him inside. Striding in and over to the desk against the wall, Finn deposited the heavy parcel.

“What are those,” Hux asked, tone curt, standing at attention with his hands behind his back.

“Your uniform. Well, not _your_ uniform. _A_ uniform. A General’s uniform. Coat and all. We found a whole stockpile on one of the ships we captured. We figured you still had your boots,” he added, glancing down at Hux’s footwear for confirmation.

“And the mission?”

Finn crossed his arms over his chest, turning to lean back casually against the table. A muscle under Hux’s eye twitched. Such lack of decorum.

Finn narrowed his gaze for a long moment; cocked his head to the side. “You’re really going to help us.”

Hux worked his jaw, looking at the floor. “It’s my most logical course of action.” That was his true reason, surely.

Finn nodded slowly. “Right. So… we’ll take the command shuttle to the Dreadnought. You say you survived, laid low until it was safe enough to join back up with the fleet. Take your rightful place as Supreme Leader or whatever.”

Hux nodded, absorbing the information.

“Once we’re onboard, we’ll jump in the fleet, say the Resistance must have been tracking you. You’ll scramble all available fighters so they’re off all the ships. That way there’s less personnel; less of a chance of us all getting caught.”

“You think that whoever is in command is going to believe that I just,” Hux made an errant gesture, “ _survived_ being shot in the chest—”

“Technically you _did_ do that—”

”—evaded capture for weeks, and yet, as soon as I’m aboard the remaining flagship, the Resistance suddenly appears, having been tracking me all along?”

Finn twisted his mouth to the side. “You think the more believable story is that you sold them out?”

Hux glowered at him for a long moment before replying. “Fine. Continue.”

“So, Poe and I will head to the engine room, disengage a few of the fuel rods so the ship’s self-destruct fail safes won’t engage, while you and Rose—”

“Stop,” Hux said sharply, taking a step towards Finn almost unconsciously. “What do you mean Rose and I?”

Finn’s brows pulled together. “Uh… Rose and you? Like, you _and_ Rose? She’s coming with us.”

Hux’s heart thudded up into his throat. “That’s not possible.”

“What? Why?” The other man looked bewildered.

Because she could be hurt. Because she could be killed. Because she could be caught in the crossfire, in the explosion, in any number of untold scenarios that would put her life in grave danger.

Hux bit down on his words, sharp like thorns at the back of his throat. All these things he could not say. It would be admitting, out loud, that he actually cared.

“Look, you can hate the idea all you want,” Finn said, before Hux could figure out what to say, “but she’s already insisted.”

Of course she had, the stubborn fool. Hux glowered at the wall over Finn’s shoulder, unable and unwilling to express just _why_ he was feeling so suddenly apprehensive.

Finn pursed his lips. “You want me to keep going?” At Hux’s silence, he took a breath. “You and Rose will take the bridge, upload the virus, and prime the main canons. We’ll have a large Resistance ship in position as a decoy, so they won’t think you’re planning on firing on the Destroyers. We don’t want to obliterate them right off the bat, just keep them from being a threat until they can be evacuated. You know where to target them for that, right?”

Hux sniffed, straightening his posture. “Yes.”

“The fleet will then jump away, and if the virus works—”

“It will.”

“— then the TIEs will be disabled. Evacuate all three ships, take out the Destroyers for good, and then initiate the Dreadnought’s self-destruct protocols. That’s it. And the First Order fleet will be gone.”

Hux bit the inside of his lip.

_Gone._

The sting of failure, of betrayal, was still there, but it was a dull throb rather than something sharp and breath-stealing.

“Rose… mentioned retrieving any survivors.”

Finn gave him an odd look. “Yeah… well, we’ll be jumping the fleet back once the coast is clear. If we can force most of the escape pods and TIE fighters to land on Brysis, then we can begin processing prisoners.”

The two of them stared for a long moment at one another, Finn’s arms still crossed over his chest.

Finn looked slightly nervous then, and leaned forward a degree. “Hey, did you know I was Force sensitive?” His brows furrowed at the last bit.

Completely baffled, Hux opened his mouth in surprise, but then quickly shut it.

“How in the hell would I have known that?” He snapped.

Finn rolled his eyes. “You worked with Kyl—” His eyes shut for a beat. “ _Ben_ for years, and he never talked to you about the Force? How to recognize it?”

Hux actually laughed at that; a dark and incredulous sound. After a moment, he composed himself, unable to fully cease smirking. “If you mean as it pertains to Project Harvester, that operation was under my father’s purview, not mine.”

Finn glowered. “No, _you_ just kidnapped kids indiscriminately. Brainwashing them.”

The self-deprecating humor quickly slid from Hux’s face, replaced by quiet solemnity.

_“Perhaps the taking by force, at such a young age, was, admittedly, a step too far.”_

Nothing he could say would fix the past; erase the things this man had endured.

“It was a ruthless, iniquitous program, but we thought the sacrifice was worth it.” It was the truth, after all.

Finn looked a little surprised. Maybe he thought Hux would have tried to deny the program’s immorality.

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“I am… aware of that now.” Hux pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth, weighing his next words. “I am not ignorant as to what you have suffered, but… perhaps it is difficult for me to appreciate the pain of being separated from one’s family, seeing as the death of my father, vile as he was, came as such a relief to me.”

Now it was Finn’s turn to open his mouth in surprise.

Hux cut his eyes away, unwilling to delve into the topic further. “The mission,” he said, “when do we leave?”

Finn swallowed, trying to steer back onto the previous topic. “Tomorrow. Early. Poe wants to get the drop on them before they get word about our mission to Fondor.”

Hux grunted.

Finn pushed himself away from the desk. “And Rose can take care of herself. You don’t need to worry about her so much.”

Hux’s head whipped back around, choking on the very air he breathed. “I am _not—”_

“She really stood up for you today, you know,” he continued, turning toward the door.

Hux looked confused; taken aback.

“I… excuse me?”

“Yeah. Poe was going off, but she said… she said you were glad she escaped off the _Supremacy._ Is that true?” The man looked back, eyes narrowed, like he was trying to catch every minute detail of Hux’s reaction. Hux’s forehead wrinkled, brows pulling together as he frowned.

Finn blinked in surprise. “You really did, didn’t you?”

Hux drew in slow, thought-gathering breath. “She’s a very talented engineer,” he said quietly, meeting Finn’s gaze.

The other man nodded, making a low ‘humm’ sound in agreement as he pressed the door’s control panel.

“Oh, and I almost forgot,” Finn stopped halfway out the door, fishing into his back pocket as he turned. “You’ll need these for any of this to even be the least believable.”

Hux reached out and took the pair of standard-issue black leather gloves being offered. He stared down at them; shiny, still crisply pressed; achingly familiar. He swallowed. “I’ll need a few additional provisions, if it’s not a problem.”

“Sure,” Finn said. “I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

Rose tugged on the hem of her First Order uniform, checking herself in the mirror on the inside door of her wardrobe. The thing still fit; tight and snug against her body.

Her stomach did an odd sort of turn as she studied her reflection.

The Order was a terrible organization, but… there was something about their uniforms. The jacket fit like a second skin, which made her a little uncomfortable in how it hugged her, but at the same time, the whole getup made her feel a bit fearless, too. All the sharp lines and stiff fabric, maybe. She could sink into it with little effort if she really wanted to; be cold and unfeeling; unyielding. Formidable. It was dangerous, because it was an easy armor to hide in, an easy shield over one’s humanity, but there was something alluring about it all the same.

Well, she always did like the color teal.

Rose huffed, jittery with pre-mission nerves. She adjusted her Major’s cap before turning to the desk and taking the small datastick resting there. Dormant within was their precious computer virus. She stowed it in her breast pocket, next to her medallion and her heart.

“Right…” she muttered, taking a deep breath and pressing the panel next to the door. She had to go collect Hux and meet Poe and Finn at the airfield.

It was still very early, so the hallways were most empty, save for a few early-risers yawning their way to the freshers at the end of the hall. Rose marched on with purpose, biting the inside of her lip, trying to run over the plan again, trying to predict what could go wrong and how it could be fixed.

Before she knew it, she was standing in front of his door.

Clamping down on her nerves, she pressed the bell option on the display screen. Within, a chime sounded.

“Come,” she heard him say, muffled through the wall.

The door hissed open under her hand, and she had enough time to take just one step before everything around her ground to a complete and breath-stilling halt.

She’d caught him standing at the desk, greatcoat slung over the back of the chair, just as he was slipping on the final piece of his uniform; the glove on his right hand. The one she’d bit. He pulled the hem firmly down over his wrist, curling his fingers into a tight fist. In the quiet of the room, Rose could hear the leather creaking.

At the sight of it, at the sound of it, she uttered a small, “Oh,” without thinking. It was mostly breath, a barely-there flutter, and it had unfurled from her chest so softly; a rising sound that ended in intense and immediate embarrassment.

She tried to hide it with a kind of cough as he turned, but in seeing him, her situation did not improve in the slightest. 

He’d shaved again, perhaps that very morning, and someone must have found him a kind of pomade, because his hair was slicked back into that familiar style from their first meeting on the _Supremacy._

It was like he’d been plucked out of an earlier moment in history and grafted onto this one.

The look of him in full regalia, to her immense mortification, made the echo of that ‘oh’ turn something warm and delicious inside her. He looked more confident than she’d ever seen him. He hadn’t even opened his mouth yet she could already tell his demeanor was… different. It was the uniform, she realized. It gave him a certain kind of courage.

She’d seen him cocky before, she’d seen him contemptuous, but she’d never seen him look this _good._

Apparently, Rose had been standing still for so long in the room’s entrance, that the pneumatic door thought she’d up and gone, and suddenly tried to close on her. She jumped forward with a sound of surprise, and the door slid shut, sealing them both in the quiet of the room.

Finally, she got the courage to drag her eyes up to his face, and was taken aback by his expression.

He appeared caught by her, hands still frozen where they’d been fiddling with his gloves, lips slightly parted and eyebrows drawn together. The very picture of soft astonishment, all at the sight of her.

When she met his eyes, tilting her head back slightly to look up at him, his surprise was quickly burnt away under a sharp and sudden heat.

It reminded her of before, by the escape pod, and then again came that feeling of power. A power from how he yielded to her, unconscious perhaps, or maybe not.

He looked at her like she was his only tether to the entire world around them. 

Rose swallowed, trying to think over the loud roar in her ears.

“Your uniform,” he said in a low, rough voice, one she could very nearly feel.

“Uh,” she turned slightly, pivoting on the ball of her foot, torso and head twisting around to get a good look at herself. “Is… is it wrong?”

And then she did something that, if tensions hadn’t been so high pre their mission, she would not have otherwise been so bold to attempt. She might have actually been able to talk herself out of it, been self-conscious enough to know it was a dangerous idea. But no, she was damn near giddy with nerves about the upcoming operation, and all good sense, at seeing him, had promptly vanished.

Hip still cocked, body still slightly twisted away, she moved her head a fraction towards him, still giving him mostly the side of her face.

“I think it looks alright.” And then she just… flicked her gaze back over to him, a brazen glance thrown casually in his direction. “Don’t you?”

Was it a tease? A dare? For herself? For him?

Maybe she just wanted to take hold of that unyielding, resilient feeling that being in such a formidable uniform could give her. It was obvious it gave _him_ confidence, and she’d be damned if she couldn’t do the same; use it as an armor against how vulnerable he made her feel.

Maybe, she just… wanted to see what he would do.

Boldly, she met his gaze, and all Hux’s brain could do was conjure a single, inelegant, _Fuck._

The feeling from the fresher that morning, of wanting to possess her, roared back to life stronger and more all-consuming than ever.

“Come here, Major,” he said, crooking a gloved finger in her direction.

Rose’s eyes widened, mentally chastising herself. Well, what kind of reaction had she expected? She’d _known_ how this would wind him up, and she’d done it anyway. So shameless.

“Sure…” she said, trying to play it cool even as the heat in his eyes threatened to consume her. She took a step toward him.

His lip curled up in distaste, wrinkling his nose a bit.

 _“At attention,”_ Hux admonished.

Rose slid her heels together, willing to play along; to see where this little game led them. She didn’t want the sizzling thrill of it all to end just yet.

“You certainly won’t fool any First Order Officers with that sloppy posture of yours,” he scoffed.

His words were cold, a flickering echo of how she remembered _General Hux_ to sound, but she found his tone lacked any real disdain. She wasn’t afraid of him. Couldn’t be. Not after what he had shown her, bared to her, over the last month.

He might have been swathed in tight black leather and heavy-spun wool standing there now, but she knew the man underneath. She could still see Armitage. The man who’d lost so much, who’d ground through all that pain; who’d come crawling out the other side, so badly broken, and into her life.

No, the tightening thrill running up and down her spine had nothing to do with fear.

As he watched her straighten at his command, his jaw-clenched with barely-constrained desire. Hux could concede that this was an _entirely_ selfish endeavor. It almost made him feel guilty. Almost.

But hell, he reasoned, they’d probably all be dead in about five hours, so what did it matter if he was selfish just this once? And the way she looked now, eyes wide and lips slightly parted, pink in the cheeks and trying, unsuccessfully, to breathe in any normal rhythm— perhaps he wasn’t the only one so affected.

Who was to deny them this one, momentary diversion?

Hux hummed, thoughtful, and took a step towards her.

Rose held her breath, but let it out again when he pivoted, moving around to her left in a slow, appraising circle. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his gloved fingers gripping his chin as he studied her.

Of all the times he’d looked downright predatory, this one took the cake.

“At least your hair isn’t running away on you this time,” she heard him mutter from over her shoulder. Close. He was standing very close.

Rose suppressed a shiver of dark delight; glad she was facing away from him. He couldn’t see how she pulled at her bottom lip, trapping it tight between her teeth.

She inhaled in surprise at the sudden pressure of his fingers at the small of her back, his other hand going up to grip her right shoulder, rolling her shoulders back. She immediately responded, letting him position her spine.

"There," he said, with a hint of satisfaction.

Rose blushed, pressing her thighs together almost unconsciously.

He hated to touch, to be touched, but he seemed to hold no such reservations now, there in the quiet of his room.

Why?

Because she was special, Rose realized. Not in some grandiose, universe-altering ‘special’ kind of way. Not like Rey. Not like Ben. No, it was because Hux had placed some kind of priceless, fragile treasure in her hands. Him. All she had to do was constrict her fist and he’d break, fall to pieces, she realized; no matter what kind of armor he’d wrapped himself in. But she didn’t want him to shatter. Quite the opposite. She _relished_ that trust he gave her.

The pressure left her back, but then he gripped the back of her Major’s cap, pushing it more forward than she’d originally had it, steadying it atop her head. He used his ring and pinky fingers to balance his hands upon the base of her skull; she could feel the smooth leather of his gloves pressing against the back of her neck.

“It’s not some jaunty hat,” Hux said, removing his hands. “You shouldn’t wear it like Dameron.”

 _Really?!_ Rose nearly broke her stance; nearly huffed in hot frustration. There was no one else she’d rather think of less, at that very moment, than Poe. Not when Hux was standing so close and touching her like this.

Her anger quickly evaporated, because in the next moment his hands were on her again, one pointer finger on either side of the top of her spine. Slowly, trailing fire through the fabric, he drew his hands horizontally over the top of her back, ending with one finger each on either tip of her austere epaulettes.

It had been a mere stroke of his hand; not even his hand, his _fingers,_ but even so, Rose had to concentrate to keep her legs from giving out.

He drew away. “Your shoulders are in line. Very good. Now,” he continued in a clipped, formal tone, coming around to stop in front of her again. “Standing at attention requires but four simple postures. Chest out, shoulders back, stomach in, and chin,” he reached out and caught the underside of her jaw with a gloved knuckle, dragging her head higher so their gazes locked. “Up.”

He smirked, obviously pleased with himself. In a slow voice, he asked, “Have you got that?”

“Yes,” she breathed, without an ounce of hesitation.

Hux cocked his head, unveiled lust simmering in his expression. “Yes?”

“Yes, General. Sir.”

That look on his face. Right there. Right then. Right when she’d said those words. Rose thought for sure he was about to pounce. And oh, she wanted him to.

She _wanted him._

Rose swallowed, leaning forward ever so slightly, and— and was he tipping toward her, too?

A sharp, shrill noise made them both jump, and Rose made a startled sound in the back of her throat. Hux hissed, looking around her.

There was a call coming through on the room’s intercom. Hux dropped his hand, features contorting into sudden annoyance. As he moved past her, Rose tried to get ahold of herself, cursing both her brazenness and her bad luck in getting interrupted.

Not to mention the mission…

How was she going to concentrate when he’d looked at her like _that?_

She kept chastising herself silently, even as Hux depressed the receiver button on the comms device.

“What,” he snapped, sounding horribly irritated.

Finn’s voice came into the room.

“We’re about done with pre-flight prep. You two ready to go?”

“I’ll be there shortly,” he said, switching off the comms. He didn’t want to give Finn the impression that he’d been right; that she was in his room.

“We should go,” Rose said, once she’d gulped down enough air to keep her voice steady. “We can’t make them wait.”

“Of course,” Hux replied, struggling to mask every ounce of disappointment. Such a shame, he lamented; he’d most likely be dead by sundown, on this impossibly-brash mission, before he ever got the chance to claim her mouth.

With a stiff air he came back to grab his coat, pulling it on and adjusting the front of his uniform. He was keenly aware of how Rose watched his every movement.

He nodded curtly at her when he was done.

“Are you ready?”

Rose nodded back, determination flickering over her features.

“Let’s do it,” she said.

A small smile pulled at his mouth. He turned towards the door, hand commanding it to open.

“With me, Major.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! As always, I'd love to hear your thoughts!
> 
> Special thank you to Brit Solo (@birchwoods01 on A03). I'm so greatfull for all your help in proof-reading, editing, discussing headcanons, and general fangirling. I'm so glad to have met you in this wonderful fandom!


	11. Chapter 11

Rose knew enough about protocol to know she was supposed to walk a pace behind him, since _evidently,_ they were “ _practicing”_ and all.

Was her heart still pounding? Or was she just imagining it?

Glancing at Hux, she noticed how his gloved hands were clasped behind his back, the leather pulled tight over his curled knuckles.

Nope, she thought, her heart was definitely still pounding. Especially when she thought of one of those gloved fingers notching under her chin as they leaned in slowly towards each other…

 _Oh god_ , had they almost— ?

Rose bit her bottom lip, eyes rolling to the ceiling as they made their way through the engineering hanger. She tried to keep herself from grinning like a complete fool. Part of her cried out in warning; once again, she was playing with fire. She pushed away that impulse for caution. The allure of him felt too good to second guess it now.

A few Resistance members paused in their tasks to watch them pass. They were an obvious pair, after all, especially with how Hux stalked about like he owned the place.

All they had to do was make it through the mission, then she could really talk to him; sort this all out. If he liked working with her, spending time with her, conversing with her; had wanted to… had wanted to _kiss her,_ and she felt all those things too, well…

Her thoughts chased circles around her head; fluttery and giddy as Hux led them to the airfield.

Finn and Poe were already waiting for them at the bottom of the command shuttle’s ramp.

“Glad you two could finally join us,” Poe groused once they’d come to a stop.

At least, Rose thought, Hux didn’t attempt to make the two salute him.

Hux ignored the other man’s jab, regarding Finn with an easy superiority. “Lieutenant.” He shifted his attention to Poe. “ _You.”_

“Hey!” Poe’s forehead wrinkled with incredulity. “How come _he_ gets a rank?” His finger jabbed in Finn’s direction. “I’m _clearly_ a Captain!”

Hux hummed, spine ramrod straight. “No. I think not.” He paused. “I’m demoting you.”

_“What?!”_

“Yes, you’re a…” he pretended like he had to think about it for a moment. “A Sergeant now. Come, come, don’t look so… grumpy. I _could_ have relegated you to the position of Squad Leader. But I simply loathe the idea of you ‘leading’ anything, to be quite honest.”

Rose was unable to choke back the laugh that came out of her mouth. Poe glared at her betrayal, but Hux, pivoting to glance at her, smirked softly in her direction, mirth dancing in his gaze.

“S-Sorry,” she muttered, trying not to look at either of them as she pushed past, climbing up the ramp so as to escape all three men’s scrutiny.

Inside, the shuttle’s passenger compartment was a room barely larger than Hux’s old jail cell, with a bank of bucket seats along both the port and starboard wall, cargo area against the stern. It was all sleek and new-looking, like the ship hadn’t even flown off the lot before the Resistance got their hands on it.

Oh, she wanted to tear into the engine of this thing so bad...

Unable to help herself, she flipped open one of the fuse panels along the wall, marveling at the neat rows of wires all cinched together.

In her cataloging, she barely heard the other’s footsteps growing louder as the three men clanked up the ramp. Hux walked over to the command panel on the inside wall, bringing the cabin online and lifting the wide door up into place. As the hatch closed, it sealed off all sounds of the outside world, replacing them with the interior hum of the life-support system rumbling to a start

“Fix your hat,” Rose heard Finn whisper. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Finn trying to balance Poe’s cap more evenly atop the man’s head. Finn looked extremely focused on his task, but Poe was obviously entranced by the other man, an expression of pure devotion flickering over his face. He looked moony. 

Had she looked at Hux like that? Back in his room?

_Back in his room!_

Rose turned away, flipping the panel she’d opened back into place, vaguely aware that Hux was watching her from across the cabin. She ducked into the cockpit, which was connected up from passenger area through a wide doorway

What a surprise, she thought blandly, as another overengineered mess of buttons and control panels greeted her, along with both a pilot’s and co-pilot’s station.

Sliding into the first seat, she cracked her knuckles, surveying the wide, flat screen before her. She was about initiate the craft’s engine priming sequence, when—

“I was under the impression that Dameron was our pilot.”

She swiveled in the chair to see Hux in the cockpit doorway, datapad in one hand and with a faint smile of amusement.

Rose flushed. “Oh. No. I was just…”

“I’m not complaining,” he amended softly, as Poe appeared over his shoulder. Hux seemed to sense the presence immediately, stepping to the side. “Sergeant.”

Poe scooted around him, looking like he was trying to sneak by without the possibility of accidentally touching the man as he passed. Rose caught the eye roll Hux could not see.

“You crank’n her up for me, Rose?” Poe sidled up to the control panel, hat already askew once again.

“No, no.” Rose stood from her chair. “I was just taking a look.”

“You sure?”

Rose smiled. “Yeah. Last time I got behind the controls I crashed, remember? No thank you.” As she moved away, Hux passed her the datapad. “Oh… what’s this?” She asked, taking it as Poe began the take-off sequence.

“The on-board manual,” Hux said. “I thought it might interest you.”

“For this ship?”

He nodded. “That’s right.”

“Ooh!” Rose woke the pad with eager fingers, moving back to one of the passenger bucket seats, beginning to peruse the files eagerly as the craft roared to life around them.

As Finn took the position of co-pilot, Hux clipped in across from Rose.

For most of their journey, while the two other men conversed quietly up by the controls and Rose read her manual, Hux made use of his time cleaning and prepping their weapons. Rose had shown him to the storage closet at the back of the craft, which Dameron had apparently stocked with blasters before their journey. One for each.

Honestly…

Hux threw an annoyed look up at the cockpit.

On the one hand paranoid, on the other too damn trusting.

Hux sighed, trying to push thoughts of the upcoming mission aside and focus on something that would pass the time.

Every so often he would catch Rose glancing at him from over the datapad. She would blush, and busy herself back with her reading. Hux, for the most part, tried to pretend not to notice. He couldn’t let himself get distracted before the mission, even as the ache in his chest told him to go to her.

Everything would hinge on how well they could play their parts, and that meant not allowing himself to feel, thus show, how warm she made him.

Hours later, Hux and Finn switched out as co-pilot. The tension radiating off Poe when Hux took his seat was overtly palpable. For a long while, they did not speak.

At one point, Hux turned to peer back through the archway into the passenger hold, arms crossed over his chest. Finn was sitting in one of the seats, head nodding forward. How the man could nap right before a mission was beyond him. Perhaps he was the kind of person who could fall asleep anywhere. Rose was still fully engrossed with the manual.

She had that familiar, intense look on her face, like she was committing the schematics to memory, and had to do so by screwing up her face into various expressions. Delight, confusion; wonder. It made him smile very faintly.

From the pilot’s seat, Dameron spoke in a quiet voice; low enough that the noise of the engines prevented anyone in the back from overhearing.

“Whatever interest Rose has in you, you know you don’t deserve it.”

Hux swiveled back around, glaring at Dameron.

“You’re not an idiot,” Poe went on as he monitored their core temp, flipping through some of the ship’s data files with mild interest. “You’re an evil son of a bitch but you’re not stupid. You know I’m right.”

“Why don’t you just focus on not crashing us into the side of a cruiser, Sergeant.”

Poe sighed. “Why are you _such_ an insufferable jackass?”

“Perhaps it is because I simply cannot stand you,” Hux shot back, tone venomous.

“Yeah, well; feelings mutual, buddy.”

Hux sat back in his chair. “And I am _aware_ of my shortcomings _,_ thank you.”

* * *

Hours later, the dashboard alarm went off, indicating they were close to dropping out of hyperspace. The noise was loud enough that Finn and Rose joined the other two on the bridge, just as the nebulous blue tunnel they traveled stretched out into near-blinding streaks of light. With a faint pull, lessened by the cruiser’s stabilizer, they coasted out into the space around the planet Brysis.

As he spotted the three ships before them, something cold dropped into Hux’s stomach. Slowly, he stood. “I thought you said one Dreadnought and two battlecruisers,” he spoke into the silence of the cockpit.

From over Poe’s shoulder, Finn swallowed. “Yeah. We did.”

Hux pointed to the ship between the Dreadnought and the Destroyer orbiting closest to the planet. “ _That_ is not Resurgent-class,” he said in a gritting voice. “That is a Xyston Star Destroyer; the _Derriphan_. From Palpatine’s _fucking Sith fleet_ , you _fool.”_

Poe scoffed. “What does it matter? You’re all on the same side anyway.”

Once again, the ill-preparedness of the Resistance was going to get them all killed.

Unbelievable.

Actually, no.

It was _completely_ believable.

“I thought you people destroyed the Sith fleet.” He said, deadly serious.

“You know what, pal? You’re absolutely right.” Poe reached up to flip some switches on the command panel over his head. “Sorry we weren’t _thorough_ enough for you, your Highness.”

“Hail the Dreadnaught,” Hux said sharply, indicating the on-board communications controls, gathering all the tension within him and trying to bleed it out into a commanding tone of voice. 

Poe curled his lip, but did so, the line crackling open.

“This is Supreme Leader Armitage Hux of the First Order.”

Rose’s breath caught. As if in mimicry, there was a rippling shock in the line’s static, as if the recipient of their message was too stunned to immediately respond.

 _“G-General Hux! Sir—!?”_ In the last bit, it was obvious the communications officer was talking to someone on his end of the line. There was a flurry of noise.

A new voice came on. _“This is Lieutenant_ _Soryn Duval of the Dreadnought Abysmus to—”_

Hux made a face. “Lieutenant? Where is your Captain?”

 _“He’s, ah, dead, Sir.”_ There was a pause. _“Our Colonel is currently meeting with the Captain of the Sith Destroyer, Captain Sabrond. Would you like me to patch you through to their—”_

“No,” Hux said sharply. “I want landing clearance _immediately._ I’m transmitting my command code now,” Hux added, fingers dashing over the control panel in front of the co-pilot’s station. “You and your men will meet us when we land.”

There was another long moment of silence.

_“The bridge has you clear to approach. Hanger bay three.”_

When the communications line closed, Hux let out a small breath through his nose. There was still a way this could work, even with the last of the Sith fleet breathing down their necks. He relaxed enough to notice how tense Rose felt at his side.

Hux glanced her way and saw how ridged she looked, eyes saucer-wide as she stared through the front window of their shuttle, breathing heavily. Before he could ask what was wrong, Rose turned on her heel, retreating back to one of the passenger seats.

Heart hammering in her chest, all Rose could think of when she saw that massive Dreadnought, with its wide metal expanse and its red indicator lights, was, _that’s what it looked like when Paige died._

“Are you alright?”

Her head snapped up to see Hux standing in the doorway between the cockpit and passenger’s compartment.

She took a shuddering breath. “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie,” he countered softly, taking a step toward her.

Rose sniffed, looking at the ground as he continued forward. She nearly seized in panic when he bent to one knee in front of her, peering up under her Major’s cap and into her face.

That look in his eyes; he knew.

“I… I didn’t know it was going to— to affect me like that. Seeing that ship. I’m sorry,” she whispered, sorrow and fear coalescing into something terrible. 

He closed his eyes briefly, shaking his head.

“You, of all people, apologizing for their feelings? What has the galaxy come to?” Something flickered over his face. Concern? Regret? “You’re strong, Rose. Brave,” he said, firm. “You shouldn’t have had to be so brave…” 

“Brave? Me?” Rose snorted.

Hux brought up his right hand, extending the pointer finger she’d been so bold in biting.

“What? Brave for biting you? Don’t flatter yourself.” She pulled at her bottom lip. “You’re not that scary.”

He smirked at her, still kneeling on the ground before her. Rose drank up the sights of it. Why did it seem like such a position of devotion?

She smiled a little despite her panic; a little giddy, a little nervous. 

“Hey guys,” Poe’s voice came out from the cockpit. “Look alive. We’re about to land.”

Standing, Hux stretched his hand out for her to take. Rose took it, and let him pull her to her feet.

“Thanks,” she said.

He nodded silently; his grip on her hand was tight and warm.

* * *

“Sir!”

A small group of six troopers and a broad-shouldered, young Lieutenant saluted them as they exited down the cruiser’s ramp. The lights of the hanger bay were almost assaulting in their brightness.

“Lieutenant Soryn Duval, sir,” the officer said.

He was young, Rose could tell; face still filled out with a little layer of baby-fat. Certainly younger than she was.

Hux smiled at the boy, but his expression was pinched and cold.

“You call this a welcome party?”

Out of everything the Supreme Leader could have said, the young man was obviously surprised by Hux’s comment, and had to compose himself before answering.

“This—we’re… we do not have a full ship’s complement, General. Supreme Leader.” He fumbled. “Sir.”

“And where has the ship’s full complement gone to, Lieutenant?” Hux spoke with slow precision, and even Rose felt like she was watching the old General Hux. His tone was unhurried, but intense and expectant. He did not need to scream his questions; his inquiries felt like a deadly-sharp knife laid gently against your throat, compelling cooperation and precision.

Rose glanced at the back of Hux’s head.

He was practically radiating calm.

No.

Not calm. 

Detachment.

That’s what it was.

He wasn’t feeling calm, she realized; he just wasn’t feeling anything. Is that how he did it? Survived all those years?

“Well, you see sir,” Lieutenant Duval explained, “the _Abysmus_ and the _Contrador_ were docked for repairs when Pryde ordered the fleet to Exogol. Many of the Order’s more loyal Captains had us transferred here; those of us in the Academy divisions, I mean.”

Rose’s heart pounded.

The First Order had sent their cadets away before the final battle. Why? To protect them?

So this was…

A ship full of children, she realized. Child soldiers and newly-minted Officers still wet behind the ears. 

“How many are we?” Hux asked.

“Twenty thousand between us and the Destroyer _Contrador,_ sir.”

That wasn’t very many, considering _a single_ Star Destroyer averaged twenty-seven thousand enlisted each.

“The Sith Destroyer, the _Derriphan,_ is the only one with a full-crew,” the boy added, as if predicting Hux’s next question. “They found us out here... offered us protection.”

Yes,” Hux said. “I heard about the piracy.”

“They’ve even sent us some specialists after many in the maintenance crew defected, but, the Sith Fleet, they’re—” He hedged. “Honestly, _General,”_ his decorum broke, the relief on his face making him look even younger. “We’re so glad you’re here, Sir.

Poe made a wildly bemused expression at Finn. “Huh?”

The Lieutenant gave him an odd look.

“I mean,” Poe swallowed. “Uh-huh. Real glad. That he’s here, I mean.”

“You don’t think our General had loyalists in the First Order?” Duval snapped. “To those of us who grew up as he did, in the Empire’s shadow, he was always Grand Marshall.”

Even Hux looked taken aback at that. 

He had always tried to conduct himself as a ruthless, but fair, military commander. They had been _his_ men, after all. When Ren or Snoke or the old guard had tried to belittle the soldiers, he was always their advocate, confident in his cultivation of the First Order army. Even if his methods were harsh, he was still proud of them. He hadn’t thought such actions could have such an inspiring effect in the would-be Officers. 

“Two ships?” Hux sounded almost pained. “That is all that is left?” A true tragedy. “And you were all just sitting here? Waiting?”

“There were rumors. That you were still alive, sir. We couldn’t just leave.”

As the boy spoke, Hux turned, beginning to stride towards the interior of the ship. He made a rolling gesture with his hand, indicating they should all follow him.

Like a Mon Calamari to water, Rose thought, sort of impressed.

Being the third highest ranking Officer, she walked behind Hux and the young Lieutenant, Finn and Poe separating them from the small contingent of stormtroopers.

Duval walked briskly at Hux’s left shoulder, just a tad shorter, but definitely broader. His sandy brown hair was cut close under his cap. “We’re still maintaining First Order command here on the _Abysmus_. We have been grateful for the _Derriphan’s_ help; trying to maintain the ships with so few enlisted is proving near impossible, especially with the lack of training in some areas. But we’ve been careful to not invite their officers aboard.”

Hux gave the man a severe frown, brows drawn together.

“The Sith Destroyer,” Duval said. “It has been a… tentative truce. Many of us feel an unease about them.”

“Sith fleet zealots,” Hux muttered disparagingly. 

“The _Derriphan_ ’s Captain is actually on board today, sir. We are trying to keep her occupied until we can get you to the bridge.”

“And these ones?” Hux indicated with his chin over his shoulder back toward the stormtroopers.

“They’re loyal,” the Lieutenant assured, motioning them down a hallway to the left end of the hanger. “We should hurry, though, I don’t know how long Captain Sabrond will tolerate being distracted.”

They moved at a hurried pace through the deserted halls toward the main turbolift. Just as it came into sight at the end of the corridor, the lift’s doors opened and out stepped a short, smiling woman in a black uniform with red piping.

As Hux slowed to a halt, so did the group at large.

“Ah, if it isn’t General Hux!” The woman came forward with an almost cheery jaunt, smile and eyes both pulled wide in a way that sent a shiver down Rose’s spine.

“That’s Captain Sabrond, of the _Derriphan_ ,” Lieutenant Duval said quickly under his breath. “This isn’t good, General.”

“Captain,” Hux sneered, but a sudden hush fell over the entire hallway as Sabrond unholstered her weapon.

The young Lieutenant gave a start, quick to draw his blaster, but Sabrond was quicker. She fired, and the Lieutenant crumpled against the wall, sliding to the floor.

Rose gasped in shock, covering her mouth.

It happened so fast.

Rose barely had time to register that the woman had just _killed that boy_ when she whipped around to the sounds of drawing blasters. Three of the six stormtroopers had their weapons raised; revealing themselves as Sith turncoats. Blaster fire echoed in blazing cracks as they made quick work of the real First Order soldiers. The loyal stormtroopers fell, and their attackers eventually turned their attention to Hux, Poe, Rose, and Finn, surrounding them.

Hux snarled in the woman’s direction.

Sabrond steadied her blaster on Hux’s chest. “Well, well, General. You _do_ appear to be quite alive, considering Pryde executed you.” The blaster moved up to aim at his head. “Pity he didn’t aim at the right target.”

Hux pressed his lips together.

She hummed. “I didn’t believe it at first, you escaping what you deserved, but…I suppose sometimes the rumors _are_ true, hm? The cadets have been chattering about it for weeks; disgusting hero worship.”

Hux’s hands fisted tight. 

She nodded to the body of the Lieutenant. “They actually thought they could hold their own against us. Pathetic. We infiltrated their ships in the first seventy-two hours. And to think they’re still under the impression that you betrayed Pryde for some _noble_ reason. Too bad they don’t know what a petty, _selfish_ man you are. These First Order _children_ might be naïve, but _we,_ in the _Sith Eternal—_ ” ”

 _“Yes, yes,”_ Hux said, forcing himself to be nonchalant, almost weary at her words. “You and your secret cult, clearly the better, stronger, more intelligent force, hell-bent on resurrecting the Emperor to whom you are all so thoroughly besotted. It’s become an exceedingly tiresome story, I assure you.”

“Worthless bastard,” the woman spat.

Rose gave a seething start, but any wild notion that had punched through her at that moment, was quickly cut off as a blaster bolt sounded from the floor. It hit Sabrond, caught her in the outer half of her right hip, spinning her around and onto the ground.

The fallen Lieutenant grimaced weakly from his hunched position, his blaster smoking faintly. Having gotten the shot off, his arm dropped limply to the floor.

It was all the opening Hux needed. Spinning round, drawing his own blaster, he fired. The shot went right by Poe’s head, into the trooper that had been guarding him.

Poe’s wide, startled eyes met his for a moment, as Hux moved his aim to another enemy.

Finn had taken the moment to wrestle one of the Sith troopers to the ground, and was proceeding to choke him. Rose had ducked and rushed the last one, firing her blaster up into the facemask.

Poe whipped around, staring at the neat round blaster hole in the middle of his attacker’s helmet.

“You’re a pretty good shot, General,” he marveled, turning back. “You’re practically a rebel with that aim alone. Hey! Watch her!” He gave a start and pointed behind Hux, who whirled on his heel.

Sabrond was trying to half pull, half crawl her way back down the hall to the turbolift, turning on her good side to aim her blaster at them.

Hux got his shot off first, catching her square in the chest. Sabrond was knocked back onto the ground. The commlink clutched in her hand went flying away, clattering down the hallway behind her.

“Did anyone see her get a call off?” Poe rushed over to her body, scrambling for the little cylinder that was rolling away.

Hux lowered his firing arm.

There was a choking cough that drew his attention downward. Slowly, he sunk to a knee next to Duval, who was hunched sideways, gaze glassy.

Gently, Hux moved the kid into a more comfortable, backwards lean against the wall. Rose’s stomach seized at the sight of the charred hole in the Lieutenant’s chest.

“Easy,” Hux muttered, palming one of the shoulder pads as the boy’s chest seized with a painful groan, breath rattling. His voice was low; soft. “You did well, Lieutenant.” 

The boy’s hand twitched, and he looked almost confused for a moment. “S-sir?” And then he went still.

Standing behind them, Rose moaned in despair. Eyes brimming with tears, she watched as Hux lay the dead Lieutenant down upon the floor, crossing his arm over his scorched chest.

_You don’t think our General had loyalists in the First Order?_

Hux closed the Lieutenant’s vacant gaze with his hand.

_To those of us who grew up as he did, in the Empire’s shadow, he was always Grand Marshall._

A strange despair squeezed his heart—

_“First Order children…”_

\--but it was followed quickly by rage and resolve.

He had to rescue what remained of the Order; from Palpatine’s Sith cult.

He had to rescue his men.

Taking the boy’s extra weapon, he holstered it.

Rose’s hand was halfway to Hux’s back, but she stilled it as he rose to his feet. She had wanted to reach out and comfort him, but he had looked at her then with such a tempest of emotion, that it stilled her hand.

He looked so furious. Rose was half-convinced it might actually bring him to tears. If he were any more frustrated, it might have. She resisted moving into his personal space. This was not the time nor place to coddle him. No, not with that expression. It didn’t look like he despaired so much as it looked like he’d decided he was going to war.

“We need to move.” He said. “Now.” 

Finished in dispatching the last Sith trooper, Finn panted where he crouched on the ground. “This hallway won’t be clear for long.” He looked over his shoulder and down the hall. “We should split up.”

Poe returned to them with the Captain’s commlink.

Finn nodded over. “Did she get a message out?”

“I don’t know,” Poe said, shaking his head.

“The other Sith troopers. They might not know we’re Resistance,” Finn huffed, “What if they think it’s infighting? First Order against Final Order,” he said to Hux, who was glaring at the ground.

“Can you still make the main reactor room?” Hux said with a deep, trembling breath, even as his voice remained even.

Poe’s eyebrows jumped, chin nodding down. “Can you still make the bridge? There might be a few Sith cultists to deal with up there.”

Hux looked at Rose. She clenched her jaw, determination dissipating all her fear.

“We can do it,” she said.

Poe tossed Rose the small cylindrical communicator. “If anything goes sideways, use the commlink. We meet back at the ship once the Dreadnought’s self-destruct sequence starts counting down. The plan can still work. We can tear down this machine once and for all. Good luck.”

“You guys, too,” she said as the four of them split, each pair sprinting down opposite hallways.

Hux and Rose dashed down the hall. Inwardly, Rose cursed her short stature. Hux’s legs were so long she had to take a extra half stride just to keep up with him. 

Skidding to a stop after a few turns, before taking another left, they flattened themselves against the wall. A door had slid open in the corridor beyond, and a pair of troopers soon emerged. Thankfully, they turned and strode away from them.

“Isn’t that the way we need to go?” Rose whispered at Hux’s elbow.

“Perhaps the service turbolift would be better, but it’s the longer route.”

“We can stop by a comms panel on the way; upload the virus.”

Hux frowned at her over his shoulder. “Is the bridge terminal not preferable?”

“We don’t exactly have the luxury of time here. We should get the bug on the network as soon as possible. Come on,” Rose pushed out from the wall, walking quickly and quietly in the opposite direction of the stormtroopers. Hux followed after.

It was lucky, Hux thought, how easily he could read her. Their intuitions were aligned to some degree, perhaps from so much time together. He found he knew, for instance, when she was about to pause, her head tilting up, perhaps trying to gain a more thorough look-see before she took cover.

“Over here,” he whispered, motioning to a small alcove with a network terminal.

Rose stepped around him, lodging herself as far back into the little space as possible. Hux kept guard as she crouched down, pulling out her medallion and sticking the pointy end between her lips.

“What are you doing?” Hux whispered, frowning down his nose at her.

“Don’t distract me,” she hissed back, extracting the now highly-conductive smelt and jamming it into one of the ports. The terminal’s side panel sizzled, sparking, and popping open. Rose let out a quiet, “Yes!”

“I have been thinking,” Hux whispered as Rose wiggled the datastick into its appropriate slot. “When the Resistance jumps in I will have my fleet stand down. The _Derriphan_ will no doubt still deploy their Sith light fighters. You can concentrate your attacks on them.”

Rose watched the datastick’s indicator light pop on, blinked rapidly as the upload sequence began; the virus slowly spreading.

Similarly, a twisting uncertainty was consuming Rose’s stomach. 

_My fleet._

Perhaps it was just a slip of the tongue…

“Sounds good…” she said carefully. “Well, looks like this uploaded alright. We should go—”

Rose almost slipped back around him and into the hall, when there came the sound of approaching footfalls. Instinctually, Hux’s arm slung around her middle, hauling her against him and back into the shadows.

A startled whimper slipped out of Rose at the last second, stomach dropping as he yanked. His other hand, not the one holding the blaster and pressed up under her breasts, clamped over her mouth. The sound she made hit the leather of his glove, blasting warmth back against her own face.

They held their collective breath as two chatty technicians ambled by their hiding spot, rambling pleasantries.

The warm hand over her mouth was stifling Rose’s breathing. Not excruciatingly heavy, but just enough to make her a little lightheaded.

Beneath her spike of adrenaline, Rose was keenly aware of the solid heat of Hux behind her. He was pressed against her from the back of her head to her heels. She could feel his thundering heartbeat in her own body, as it reverberated through them both.

Eventually, the technician’s voices faded.

Her lower lip caught on leather as Hux slowly drew his hand away, gloved fingers sliding from her mouth.

She felt his breath on her neck, fluttering her hair as he sighed in relief. The sound moved through her, quieting her own panic. She leaned back into him as the tension in her body drained; an adrenaline afterglow now that they were moderately safe again.

“That was close,” she whispered, leaning her head to the side. With how they were standing, it made her hat tip forward as the side of her face pressed against his chest.

Oh, she just wanted to stand there for a moment longer; forget all about how they were about to go risking their lives again. 

His arm around her tightened before he let her go; slow and reluctant.

As she stepped out into the hallway, Rose looked back at him.

Hux ducked out of the shadows; his free hand clenched. The leather was still warm from her mouth.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “About the cadets.”

Something tightened his features, and he struggled to control it. “Even more reason to evacuate both First Order ships,” he offered quietly. He meant it. 

“So which way?” Rose asked, trying to be serious when she met his pale green eyes, but it was hard to speak with her heart up in her throat.

After this was over, they would be alive and they would be safe, and then she could pin him down with her words and her gaze and her fingertips in just the ways she wanted.

 _Focus_ , she told herself, even as her body canted toward him. You can do this _later._

He must have thought the same, because he cleared his throat, motioning to the turbolift at the end of the maintenance tunnel.

“This way,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, big thanks to my betas/editors Brit and Dan, for all their help! Thanks also to the gingerose discord for keeping me sane!


	12. Chapter 12

The cramped turbolift rumbled as it climbed, issuing a more noticeable grating sound rather than its usual hum.

The bearings needed oil, Hux noted with a twitch of annoyance. Habit.

The noise of it was made all the louder, surely, due to the silence that hung between them. Him and Rose.

Hux frowned, looking at the floor. He wanted to say something, but what?

Any of the more… _personal_ thoughts that floated around in his head were hamstrung by two opposing emotions: guilt, at having such ideas in the middle of a very dangerous mission, where the lives of his men were on the line, and fear, at the thought of her actually peeling away the protective layers of his uniform, like she’d peeled away all the rest of him, finally seeing the man underneath. All his defects; all his real scars.

“We’ll save them,” Rose said suddenly.

Hux looked sideways at her, and noted how her hands were balled into tight fists at her sides. She was staring at the closed doors of the turbolift, worry lines creasing her forehead.

“Those kids. All the rest. Like Duval,” she muttered.

He shouldn’t have been surprised; Rose practically oozed what the Resistance stood for. Salvage the damaged; stitch-up the broken; save the galaxy.

As the turbolift slowed to a gradual upward halt, Rose gave him a fierce look.

“The Sith Fleet won’t take them,” she said, fire burning in her gaze. “We won’t let them.”

He was honestly quite touched.

“Right,” he replied, letting her passion give him a boost in confidence as the doors slid open.

The maintenance elevator let them out on the same level as the command deck, only a few corridors away. The first hallway was empty, but they kept their blasters at the ready.

Rose took the lead, rounding the final corner, but suddenly darted back around as the door to the bridge hissed open. Pressing her hand to his chest, she shoved him back to the wall, flattening herself there with him against the paneling. Hux didn’t protest, but let the warmth of her hand stay him.

“What do you mean ‘something’s wrong’?” A voice said up ahead, around the corner.

A second voice responded, just shy of hysterical. “I can’t get Captain Sabrond on comms! What if something’s happened to her?!”

“She took three troopers!”

“I can’t get them to respond either.”

”We should go. _Now,_ ” a third voice said, as the group’s footfalls became louder.

“What about the bridge?” A fourth asked.

“Leave them! We can take the ship back once we regroup, come on!”

Four Sith Fleet officers, all in black uniforms with their telltale red piping, sprinted past where Hux and Rose were hiding, off down the long hallway back toward the interior of the ship.

They waited, even long after the officer’s pounding footfalls receded into the distance.

“Okay,” Rose breathed after a few safe seconds, releasing him.

With Rose by his side, Hux rounded the corner, raised his weapon, and pressed the command panel to open the bridge doors. Before the doors had swished fully to the side, they were already rushing in. 

A flurry of noise and movement immediately accosted them.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hux could see a large blunt object come swinging toward him.

There was a shout of, “Take this, zealots!” then, “Wait! Look!”, “It’s the General!”, and “Stop!”

The object meant to collide with his skull was quickly batted away as Hux sidestepped his attacker, jerked out of the trajectory of the crude metal pipe that narrowly missed his face, and struck the offending cadet in the forearm with butt of his blaster. There was a yelp of pain, and the pipe fell to the floor with a ringing clatter.

From the other side of the bridge came a gasp. “General Hux!”

Rose lowered her blaster, lips parting in surprise.

There were only a handful of bridge crew remaining, if you could call them _crew_ at all. It was just like when she and Paige had started going out on missions; way too young. They were just kids: two older, and three younger. A young man with dark, tanned skin and the young blonde, the one by the door who had tried to ambush them. The rest, one younger girl and two small boys, looked to be between the ages of twelve and sixteen.

“Sir!” The young woman yelped, looking both excited to see him and horrified that she’d almost hit him. She held her arm, wincing. “It really is you!” Her cap had fallen to the ground, revealing blonde hair pulled into a tight tail.

“Who else would I be?” Hux snapped, glaring at the girl and then at the metal pipe on the ground. “What were you going to do,” his voice pitched, “ _bash me over the head?”_

“We thought you were the officers from the _Derriphan_!” One of the young boys said with a shout. “Come back to finish us off!”

“Obviously not,” Hux grumbled, surveying the small gaggle of cadets. He pressed his lips into a thin line, stalking over to the command terminal at the front of the room.

The oldest boy, perhaps in his late teens, gave a start, like he might try to dash forward and physically stop Hux’s advance. “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?! Get away from there!” 

Rose trained her blaster on him.

Hux paused, also turning. His voice was soft and deadly. “Excuse me?”

The young man, with light umber skin, pointed a finger in Hux’s direction. “We can’t trust him!” He looked around to the others. “He betrayed the First Order! Remember?! Do you deny it?” He asked Hux. “Isn’t it true you sold us out to the Resistance?”

The bridge was hushed.

Hux swallowed thickly, pinned by the cadet’s accusatory gaze. He looked around at the other young officers.

_Too bad they don’t know what a petty, selfish man you are._

What could he do? He didn’t have the strength to lie to them; to these mere children.

“Hux didn’t betray the First Order.”

Everyone swiveled around to look at Rose, who slowly lowered her blaster.

Hux opened his mouth to speak, to correct her, but she cut him off.

“He knew Palpatine and Pryde were going to sacrifice the fleet at Exegol. That’s why he escaped the _Steadfast;_ to bargain with the Resistance and save all your lives. _You._ The _future_ of the galaxy.”

There was stunned silence, and then, one of the very young cadets elbowed the older officer in the ribs, hissing, “I _told_ you! General Hux knew exactly what he was doing the whole time!” The young man who had originally spoken suddenly looked cowed and embarrassed.

Rose caught Hux’s eye, determined and resolute; he could tell by the set of her jaw.

At the look of confidence she gave him, he began to feel a creeping nausea. Worse than when he’d had to run on his ruined leg, or when he’d felt humiliated in the Resistance’s showers. No, because this was Rose. She stood there, after just risking her life, pretending he hadn’t been an evil, murderous little cur from the start.

“Isn’t that right, General?”

Her voice startled him from his reverie, steeped in hope.

For him.

Is this what she had to do, he wondered with a sudden bolt of shame, every time she ‘stuck up’ for him against the better judgement of her superiors? Of her _friends?_ Lie and obfuscate and plead his case?

At his being more. As if he _could be more_

She was… 

Her affection for him was ruinous. 

And—

He loved her.

He—

Hux knew he had to turn away, before something dangerously vulnerable flashed across his features, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His mind just kept edging closer to _panic._ Confusion, elation, and _panic._ Which made him angry. At himself.

At that moment, however, came a sound from the Dreadnought’s scanning station. A warning siren, as the Resistance fleet dropped out of warp and into all three ship’s immediate airspace.

“Uh-oh,” Rose said under her breath, an alarm sounding opening across the communications channel.

_“This is the Lieutenant Lenwith of the Sith Fleet! All First Order and Sith ships are to scramble their fighters!”_

Hux channeled the tempest of emotion swirling in him into the force behind his hand, bringing it down onto the communication’s controls.

“Belay that order!” He bellowed, voice picked up by the equipment and broadcast to the other ships.

A counterintuitive move, perhaps. The opposite of what they had originally intended, after all; to lure all the light fighters out of all three ships’ hangers. But that was before he’d realized that the two First Order craft were staffed with refugee cadets. Kids.

“This is Supreme Leader Armitage Hux of the First Order. All fighters are to _stand down_.”

Before he’d even finished, scores of red wing-tipped TIEs began swarming out the belly of the Sith Destroyer, but thankfully, it didn’t look like the First Order ships were responding to the _Derriphan’s_ call to arms.

Out in space, the two sides clashed into one another, and the dogfight was on.

“This is a _huge_ problem!”

Hux jumped, unaware that Rose had joined him at the front of the bridge.

She pointed out the front of the transparisteel window. “The only way we were going to disable the First Order light craft was to have you order them to jump to hyperspace! But the Sith TIEs won’t obey _your_ command! How do we engage the virus?”

Hux bit the inside of his lip. “Manually,” he said after a moment’s pause.

Rose blinked at him in surprise. “What, like, hack into their system from here?” 

“Can you do it?” He asked in a low, serious voice, so that only the two of them could hear. Around them, the ship groaned as an errant, exploding Sith fighter was obliterated against the hull. At her look of unease, he leaned in a bit farther. “You _can,_ Rose.”

“Fine. But I’ll need you to authenticate. If I have to backdoor into _this_ ship’s network, it’s going to take forever,” She countered in a loud whisper.

“I can get you in.”

They both turned to see the young blonde woman standing a few paces behind them, fitting her cap back on her head.

Hux frowned. “Were you _evesdrop—”_

The girl straightened in attention; hands clasped behind her back. “If you need access to the encrypted holonet, I can get you in.”

Hux narrowed his eyes. “Is that so?”

“Yes, sir. I was the Deputy Chief Flight Officer. I’ve been working my way in, little by little each day; just in case.”

Hux narrowed his eyes. “Excellent foresight. Now, get to work.”

Rose gave him a look, before following the girl back to the appropriate station.

“Thank you,” Rose said, watching as the girl logged them on. “I’m Rose.”

“Deputy Chief Officer Vitton.” The girl gave her a swift sideways glance. “You’re a Major. Loyal to General Hux?”

Rose’s lips twitched. “You could say that.”

Vitton shrugged. “I could. Here, this is the drive that connects to the Sith holo-network,” she motioned to the screen, stepping back. “So, what division?”

“Engineering.”

Back at the front of the bridge, Hux pointed to the young man. “You! Don’t just _stand there._ Start priming our canons! Immediately!”

Through the mess of light fighters, the Sith Destroyer was beginning to maneuver.

No doubt they were priming their axial superlaser. That much power could rip through the Dreadnought like a monomolecular blade through flesh.

Hux quickly started pre-evacuation protocols at the helm.

There might be a battle going on outside in space, but still, having the cadets in escape shuttles would be massively preferable than having them stuck on an exploding Dreadnought.

In less than a minute, emergency lights had switched on, and an alarm began to blare a loud, ship-wide warble. It was slightly muffled on the bridge, but it could still be heard from out in the hallway.

At least, Hux knew, the Sith couldn’t ready both their axial laser and their hyperdrive at the same time. There was a rather nasty priming and cooling sequence. Same tech as Starkiller, after all, if only attached to a ship.

 _“First Order Destroyer!”_ The Sith commander was getting frantic. _“Send out your light fighters!”_

“You will disregard that order, Captain,” Hux said on the radio.

The First Order Destroyer, the third element in this entire standoff, sat unmoving still. They were definitely listening to their comms, but unwilling so far as to radio out or make a move.

They were scared, Hux realized. Hedging. Who would win out? That’s what they were thinking. Calculating. Smart.

“Now, the rest of you.” He turned, pointing at the five cadets about the bridge. “You are to head to an escape pod. Major Tico and I will handle the rest.”

“But sir!” The youngest girl, who was standing at the communications station, protested loudly.

“You.” Hux pointed over at the oldest young man, who put into motion the canon’s priming sequence. “Escort them.”

The officer glanced at the two younger boys. “Come on. And _you,”_ he said to the girl at communications.

“But Rix!”

“That’s an order, Sargent Kuna.”

“You should go, too,” Rose whispered to Officer Vitton. “I can take it from here.”

“On your orders, Major,” the young woman saluted, before following others, helping with the younger ones out into the hallway.

Perhaps, Hux thought, it was time to call the other half of their intrepid team. He opened a line to the main reactor room.

“Dameron!”

There was a crackle of static. _“Oh hey! General Hugs! Good timing!”_ There were noises in the background: blaster shots. Poe grunted; it sounded like he’d flattened himself against the wall. _“I think we’ve just been introduced to a few of your Sith friends!”_

The group of Sith officers they’d seen earlier, exiting the bridge…

There was an excited whisper that could be heard between the two smallest boys as the group of young cadets exited the bridge.

“Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, he really said it! General _Hugs!_ ”

“I thought it was just a myth!”

Hux let out a short, sharp sigh. “How far are you with destabilizing the core?”

 _“Getting there! We’re working on it!”_ There came the sound of Poe returning blaster fire.

“Might I suggest _you hurry?”_ Hux snapped. If the tide of battle didn’t change soon, the Destroyer would choose to side with the Sith. They weren’t going to wait forever.

According to the onboard computer’s measure, most of the ship’s complement had made their way to the escape pod hangar bays. Hux keyed in the override command that locked out use of the Commander’ crafts, changing the settings so they could be used by any of the cadets of lower rank.

“I think I got it!” Rose whooped.

Hux’s head snapped up, just in time to see a strange kind of ripple tear through the dogfight.

The Sith’s light fighters slowed to a stop as their engines bled down to barely a hum. Resistance fighters quickly disengaged, jumping away back to safety.

Through the somewhat less congested space, Hux saw the Sith Destroyer’s canons glowing red-hot.

His gut twisted.

The laser fired, ripping through the bottom port-side of the Dreadnought with a force that sent him sprawling sideways on the command panel. It was a terribly vivid moment that brought Hux back to the _Supremacy;_ nostalgia in only the very most violent and unpleasant of ways.

In the rumbling, creaking aftermath, there was an alarm going off on a command terminal. Their under-canons were shredded.

A groan pulled his attention as he steadied himself back on his feet.

Across the bridge, Rose was pushing herself back up using the side of the terminal she’d been working on, palm on her head.

Hux’s heart stilled.

Before he could start toward her, she held up a hand, shaking her head. Leaving the bank of computers, she walked toward the front of the bridge, wincing.

“Are you alright?” He asked softly when she came to him, gaze flitting over the bump on her head.

“Fine,” she groaned.

 _“What the **hell** was that!?” _Poe yelled over the comms.

“A very big explosion,” Hux responded tersely, scrolling through damage reports that were popping up on the command screen. “And a critical hit. Our weapons are down.”

So, now the axial laser had been fired. What were the Sith going to do next? Take the time to prime and fire on them again? Or would they let the laser cool so they could use their hyperdrive to get away? Whichever it was, they needed to stop them before they could do either.

But how? Now their canons were offline, to put it mildly.

 _“Alright!”_ Poe said through the comms. _“The failsafe has been disengaged! Start the self-destruct countdown and get the hell out of there!”_

It looked like nearly all the escape pods had been jettisoned, too.

“We’ll meet you in the hanger!” Rose called through the radio.

Hux brought up the controls for the Dreadnought’s self-destruct confirmation screen. It required an Officer’s code as well as a fingerprint scanner. The first he input without a second thought, but as he slid off the glove of his left hand, he paused.

There was no way the Sith would be able to cool their systems enough to jump to hyperspace before the Dreadnought exploded.

If they destroyed the Dreadnought now, as they had planned, then that would mean letting the Sith Destroyer go.

And what if the Sith were priming their canons, instead or readying their hyperdrive? The Dreadnought’s absence left the remaining First Order Destroyer open to attack.

“What are you waiting for?” Rose hissed, taking a backward step towards the doors to the bridge. “Hurry up! So we can leave!”

No, they _needed_ that Sith ship out of the picture. Permanently.

But they couldn’t use their canons. Their canons were _gone._

What if…

What if they used the Dreadnought _itself_ as the weapon?

“Hux?”

They could... ram the Sith Destroyer.

The core would already be damaged, and with impact, the Drednought’s explosion would obliterate both craft.

But that would mean someone had to stay aboard and—

“Armitage!”

He whirled around. Rose gave him a pleading look.

“Leave it,” she said, breathless, as if she could read his mind. “We can pursue what’s left of the Sith later. Right now, we’re out of options. Right now, we need _to go._ ”

Hux swallowed.

No. _She_ had to go.

It was undeniable…

The Resistance needed people like her, not a man like him.

If there was only one thing he could do for her, this would be it. He could ensure that she could escape and he would take out the Sith Destroyer. That way, the cultists would no longer pursue the Resistance, or be able to capture the cadets.

But Rose would never leave by choice. She was too damn prideful. Too kind. He had to force her hand.

That thought caused raw emotion to well up in the back of his throat.

Right hand plunging around his body, he gripped his blaster handle in its holster, pulling it forth and leveling it in her direction, aiming at her chest, arm fully extended.

Rose’s lips parted in surprise, eyes going ultra-wide as she focused on the weapon’s cold, dark barrel.

“I think it’s time you went back to your friends,” he growled, letting the cold feeling in his chest expand, filling all the corners of him with dreadful, detached determination

“What?” She breathed, looking truly stunned.

Burying the part of himself that hated to see her so pained, he sneered...

“I’ve sent the escape pods a few new directives. They are to take the cadets to the First Order Destroyer, where I will assume command and re-take the fleet.” He let out a dark chuckle. “I assure you, Miss Tico, you’ve been extremely helpful up until this point, but this is where we part ways.”

Rose shook her head, trying to wrap her head around what was happening.

He was… double-crossing her?

_Now?_

She took a tentative step towards him. “Hux...”

His grip on the blaster tightened. “I’m giving you a chance to escape, Miss Tico. I suggest you take it.”

“And why’s that? Huh?” She was suddenly so pissed; she could feel the anger of it flaring hot all over her body.

“Professional courtesy,” Hux spat, guiding his ungloved hand to hover over the fingerprint scanner.

Because that’s exactly what you’re supposed to do, Rose thought bitterly, tell me your stupid secret plans!

“That’s bullshit,” she countered.

Why was he doing this? There was no way he was going to be able to get command of the First Order ship, not with that Sith Destroyer still…

Rose’s gaze slowly moved from the blaster to the viewport, where the Sith ship hung against the blackness of space, planet of Brysis round and wide in the backdrop.

That’s why…

He was going to distract the Sith fleet. With the Dreadnought.

The realization sent a wave of dread down her spine.

No, she wasn’t going to let him do this.

_Death won’t take you, Armitage. I won’t let it._

“I’m not leaving,” she said, taking another step toward him. She saw his Adam's apple bob.

“Then I’ll shoot you,” he growled.

A tight, terrible grin split Rose’s mouth.

“Oh yeah?” She breathed; eyes alight with fury.

Hux frowned, refocusing in his effort to keep the blaster level and pointed at her. As Rose took another step toward him, and then another, he tracked her with his aim, having to readjust as she slowly crept closer.

When she came to a stop, it was as the cold metal ring of the barrel settled gently against her chest.

Hux’s heart pounded at the sight of her, looking at him from under the weapon’s bite in her uniform.

“I _will_ shoot you,” he reiterated, trying to sound as cruel as he could muster.

“Then _do it!_ If you’re so determined to betray me and go back to ruling the First Order then _you’re_ _just going to have to **kill me** ,_ because I’m not leaving.” She wasn’t going to let him sacrifice himself, she thought with a wave of fury.

Hux glowered at her, face pinched in anger. They were running out of time. She should already be gone and he should already have the self-destruct sequence counting down. He should already be using the Dreadnought’s impulse engines in their trajectory toward the Sith Destroyer.

“The cadets need you,” she tried again, softer and more pleading.

He gave a start. “I _told you_ that _I_ will be the one who—”

“Cut the bullshit, Hux!”

“Fine,” he seethed. “But you will let me do this; let me make this right. You need. to go. _Now.”_

“No!”

Hux felt a keen jolt of rage lance through him. “Rose!”

She groaned loudly, angry and frustrated, gripping the barrel of the blaster and pressing it against her chest more forcefully. “I said do it!”

His arm trembled. “Why do you insist on _fighting me?!”_

“Because I don’t want you to die, you _dummy!_ ” She barked, tears gathering in her eyes. With each passing moment, Rose’s panic churned and grew. The thought of him being ripped away from her ravaged her heart. “I just want you to start the countdown and leave with me.”

The blaster lowered a fraction.

“But the Sith…”

“I don’t give _fuck_ about the Sith, Hux! Let them go!” It was noble of him, _good_ of him, to want to do this; to want to atone in his own twisted, self-deprecating way. Save the Resistance, save her, by laying down his life, but...

_After this was over, they would be alive and they would be safe, and then she could pin him down in just the ways she wanted._

… but she couldn’t _let_ him _._ She was too selfish with her heart. 

“Leave the Dreadnought. Let it explode and live to fight the Sith another day. Just… _please_ come back with me. I can’t— _Please…”_

The desire to get ahold of him, to grip him in her hands and hold him so he couldn’t _escape_ her; it roared so loud in Rose’s ears that she barely heard the ship-wide alarm blaring all around them.

If only she could make him understand.

She refused to lose him like she’d lost Paige

At the desperate sound in her voice, Hux’s resolve boke, and he lowered his arm. The blaster tip pointed down to the floor.

Well… at least now he knew why he was so weak for her. Why he couldn’t say no.

He really did love her.

“Rose…”

He didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence as Rose lunged forward, moving the moment she was no longer pinned under the barrel of his blaster. He’d given her an opening for her to impress upon him just _how much_ she needed him, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity go to waste.

Hux made a noise of surprise as her hands took hold of him, fisting her fingers in the front of his uniform and hauling him down to her level.

The blaster clattered to the ground as he seized in shock, her mouth suddenly crushed against his own, lips warm and desperate.

The whole thing took a moment to register, and then he gasped. Rose used his moment of shock to lick into his mouth, a frantic whimper curling up from her chest, setting him _on fire_ as the weight of her movement drove him back against the edge of the terminal.

With that, his last bit of self-control shredded. Hux let out a warm hum, hauling her closer with an arm locking into place around her back, taking control of the kiss. A gloved hand came up to grip her chin and tilt her head, allowing him better access to her mouth as their tongues clashed.

All that was inside of him; all the pain and all the panic, the elation at having Rose in his arms coupled with fear that they might both be dead in a matter of minutes; the slow affection of her lips— it ripped a moan from deep within his chest, the sound of it muffled by Rose’s mouth as she greedily swallowed down the sound.

It was a dangerous moment, the ship falling apart around them as it was, but the risky rush of it only fueled their desperation. 

Rose leaned into him further, pressing him back against the dashboard as her hands released the front of his uniform, arms snaking their way behind his back. Her fingers worked their way up, tangling in the lower fringe of his hair and yanking. Hux bit off the sound she was threatening to coax from him with a hiss, pulling back a fraction, and she took the opportunity to bite at his lower lip.

Something deep within the Dreadnought exploded, causing the ship to pitch and shutter.

They broke apart, both raking in breath as they steadied themselves against each other, torn away from their small, shared moment only to be dropped back into the very real chaos around them. 

Hux’s chest heaved with breath as Rose sucked down gasps.

“Will you… please,” she managed to say into the small space between them, “come with me now?” Her hand covered his where it shifted to cup the side of her face.

He frowned, brows pulling together. Eventually, he relented, slumping slightly.

“I cannot deny you,” he admitted, thumbing her cheekbone with a gloved finger. She could see the reflection of herself in his eyes. “You’re simply too powerful.”

Rose grinned, leaning into his touch.

“Good. Let’s finish this.”

Gently, she pushed away from him, letting him straighten back up from where he’d been so unceremoniously ravaged against the bridge controls.

Turning, he pressed his naked hand against the fingerprint scanner and was surprised how calm he felt, how at ease.

Hux could feel Rose behind him, still a little breathless

His mouth tingled, and he wondered if hers did too.

She’d _kissed him_. Kissed him like _that._

Like she’d been trying to breathe life back into his body.

“It’s done,” he said with grim finality as he grabbed his other leather glove where it was resting on the terminal, slipping it back on.

He turned toward her as her hand darted out, grasping his newly gloved one. Together, they dashed from the bridge, the ship’s destruction quickly clocking down behind them.

And they _ran._

With each passing moment, another explosion rocked the Dreadnought. If they didn’t hurry, they’d be caught by the fire that was ripping through the ship.

At least, Hux thought, the emergency doors had been overridden by the self-destruct protocol, so there wasn’t a chance that they’d be sealed inside. 

They made good time, using the main turbolifts that were still functional. Rose had yet to let go of his hand, grip constricting a few times within his own.

When the doors opened at the hanger level, there was a loud explosion that erupted only a few decks away. It made the lift shutter as they dashed out of it.

“There they are!”

They whirled around to see two Sith Officers running down the corridor to their left.

Hux growled.

_Dameron!_

Never bloody _finishing the job!_

“Go!” He dropped Rose’s hand, pushing her forward. He reached into the side of his greatcoat as it whipped open, pulling out Duval’s blaster. He covered her, following after as she dashed along, and he was able to get a few shots off towards their oncoming attackers, slowing their advance.

Half of the hanger was already blazing, and the sight of it made the memory of the last time Rose had been trapped on a ship, one that was _on fire,_ finally register. It squeezed her chest.

“Fuel cells,” Hux muttered under his breath, blanketing the arched opening of the hallway behind them with fire, pinning the Sith Officers down as they took cover.

Across the hanger, the command shuttle’s running lights were already on.

Just as they made a break for it, fire ripped through the hallway from which they had just exited. The explosion consumed the remaining Sith officers completely, and the sheer radiating force of the blast knocked Hux and Rose off their feet as they were thrown forward to the ground.

Hux landed with a hard smack, skidding on his stomach along the metal floor, coming to a stop in the dust and ash, his greatcoat fanned around him.

Plain bloomed in his chest as the air was knocked out of him.

Bits of metal began clanged off the ground around him, as the scaffolding near the top of the hanger began shaking loose from its brackets. Blown apart from successive blasts, strips of interior siding, and some of the more flammable cargo, ejected themselves across the room in smoking arcs, showering sparks and flame as they went.

Groaning, Hux struggled to get his arms under his body as he pushed his chest off the ground.

His ears were ringing, the explosion had been so loud.

With a gloved hand, he tried to push back his hair that had been so thoroughly blown out of place.

Looking around, the hanger was now strewn with debris; bits of smoldering metal and wall paneling were strewn about, blown off in the blast. His eyes landed instantly on Rose, who was lying on the floor with her back to him, on her side, a few feet away. She wasn’t moving.

There was a seizing spike of panic at seeing her body lying there so still. He used every ounce of training and learned stoicism to seize upon said panic and wrestle it under control. If she were injured then he’d need to be sharp and alert, no matter how much dread there was pounding through him.

With a hiss of pain, he fought his way to his feet, limped over to her, keeping his posture crouched low out of caution and from the pain pulsing over his body. When he reached her, he half-fell to his knees.

“Rose,” he groaned, leaning over her, gripping her shoulders so he could turn her over.

“Ouch!” She yelped as he rolled her onto her back, pain and discomfort screwing up her expression.

_She was alive!_

Her hand flew up to her opposite arm, where he was gripping her. He quickly removed his hand, bracing her against his knee, and saw that some piece of debris had slashed through her Major’s coat and down to the flesh of her arm. It wasn’t a deep wound, but it looked like it stung.

Easily treatable, he thought, huffing in immense relief at the feeling that surged through him. He thanked the very stars around them for a good fortune he did not necessarily believe he deserved.

Rose struggled to sit up. Hux helped her.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

“Hey!”

They both looked over to see Finn hanging out the back of the command shuttle, bracing his hand against the hydraulic arm that would raise and lower the ramp.

The man’s eyes were wide. “Come on!” He waved at them.

Hux gripped Rose by the arms and hauled her to her feet with him. She hissed at the sudden, dizzying movement. It wasn’t a very gentle gesture, but there was no time. By Hux’s internal calculations, they had but minutes before the Dreadnought was completely torn apart.

He tugged her along and they moved forward together, the sounds of the ship tearing apart in flame roaring behind them.

The shuttle was already beginning to lift itself off the flight deck floor by the time they reached it, the small thrusters in the undercarriage burning with white-blue flame.

Dameron was getting impatient.

As they approached the edge of the command shuttle’s ramp, now a few feet off the ground, Rose stumbled. Hux compensated immediately, grip tight on her uninjured arm as he hauled her back high enough to slip an arm under her back, dragging her to her feet again.

Finn’s arms were out. “Jump!”

Rose did so, and Hux bent to readjust; get hold of her hips, hoisting her off the ground and into Finn’s embrace. The other man pulled her the rest of the way up and into the space craft.

Dameron must have already cleared the pre-flight protocols, for the ship’s little ramp was slowly tilting upward, moving to lock in so the shuttle could launch into space.

The ramp was higher than Hux’s chest now, both from the way it was retracting up and from how the command craft was hovering higher still.

“Come on!” Finn reappeared, slinging one arm down towards him.

He stared up at Finn, the former stormtrooper, as much or as little a traitor as he was. An enemy until he wasn’t. Hux’s heart pounded as he panted for breath, the warm and caustic air around them burning his lungs. He was exhausted.

“Hux!”

He heard Rose calling for him from up above, dazed and desperate.

With a burst of determination, Hux took the ramp’s lip in one hand, bending, jumping, and hoisting his weight upward, grabbing at Finn’s outstretched hand with the other. They grasped each other by the forearm.

Finn grunted, pulling Hux upward as the ramp tilted ever higher. It caught Hux in the stomach, so he had to shimmy sideways to slide himself up and over the end of it as the shuttle began to move.

Both he and Finn tumbled back and down to Rose’s feet, who was sitting up on the floor, as the shuttle’s ramp-door clicked into place.

There was a slam of force as Poe punched the ship forward, exiting the hanger at a speed certainly faster than any regulation would advise. He didn’t make a move to hyperspace, but swung around in a large arc, speeding away from the Dreadnought as it began to systematically implode upon itself.

“Did we get ‘em?!” Dameron called from the cockpit.

“Yeah!” Finn responded with a deep whooping breath.

Hux pushed himself up onto his forearms and knees, swallowing hard as he watched the _Abysmus_ crumble into fire and floating debris through the shuttle’s back viewports. From beyond the disintegrating ship, he watched with cold fury as the Sith Destroyer jumped to hyperspace. Gone.

They’d escaped.

He cursed himself.

He should have refused her. He should have stayed behind and—

His thoughts derailed as something— _someone—_ launched themselves at him, catching him by surprise and causing him to fall back against the floor. He braced himself up with his arms as heavy weight slammed upon his chest.

To his utter shock Rose had thrown herself over him, and was now sobbing into his neck

Hux froze.

“Y-your arm,” he said weakly.

“Hux! Hux! We made it! We—!” Her voice was loud in his ear as she drowned him out, shouting and crying and squeezing him and _on him_ all at once.

Gently, he pressed a hand to her back, as if that would steady the torrent of her, watching from over the top of her head as Finn slowly got to his feet.

The other man gave him an appraising look; much less venom than it was humor.

 _That’s your life know_ , that look said.

Hux didn’t know to feel about that.

At least Dameron was driving the shuttle; Hux didn’t need that hotheaded pilot seeing Rose’s embarrassingly open displays. And Hux was in no mood to hear another attack against his character, especially with Rose pressing herself against him so thoroughly in her relief.

He understood; she was glad they were both alive.

Admittedly, so was he.

Hux moved the hand resting upon her back, encircling her instead in a one-armed embrace. He closed his eyes as an all-consuming wave of relief washed over him, bolstered by the warm weight of her; safe against him. Lowering his forehead to rest upon her shoulder, he held her tight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to my hubby Dan, and my writing buddy Brit, for helping me edit this chapter, bolstering me when I had doubt, and for just being great people all around. Love you guys!


	13. Chapter 13

“It’s not deep,” Hux informed her. Rose shrugged back on the shoulder of her Major’s coat where she sat, in the back of the command shuttle.

Big ‘ol slash, right across the side of her sleeve. Damn.

Well, it could still be saved, she thought, checking the small tear with gentle fingers. She could sew it— the stitch would be _terrible_ — but at least it could be saved.

Funny…

She used to associate her stolen uniform with few positive emotions: the fear of that day on the _Supremacy;_ it’s raw power, dark and tempting.

But now she… sort of had a different memory to associate it with, didn’t she?

Rose glanced over at Hux, who was frowning softly down at her.

He had the shuttle’s onboard medkit open between them, empty bactapatch wrapper held in a gloved hand.

“Thanks,” she said, unsure if she was angry at him or… not. He’d had the audacity to try and trick her after all.

To her surprise, he reached out and brushed away the mess of hair that had fallen out of place and onto her forehead. She’d long since lost her cap. He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing as he appraised the small bump against her hairline.

Green eyes flicked down to hers.

“Does that hurt?”

Rose swallowed, feeling his warm attention on her skin and the slight stick of leather. “No. It’s fine.”

He prodded gently at the swelling.

She winced.

“Humph,” Hux huffed, unimpressed. His lips twitched in thought as he pulled back. 

He thumbed through more of the medkit, extracting a small packet of gel, not unlike the one she’d used along his jaw a few days ago. She watched as he carefully plucked at the glove on his left hand, laying it in his lap, then he tore at the edge of the packet.

He pushed back her hair, smearing a small dollop of bacta onto his bare finger and dabbing it on the bruise.

“Guess it’s your turn to ‘tend to me,’ huh?” She joked quietly, letting him work.

Hux allowed a very small flick at the corner of his mouth; barely a smile, but something that was a little hesitant.

Rose tried not to squirm, eyes zeroing in on the pale, pink skin of his wrist bobbing in front of her face. When he was done, but before he could pull away, she gently stopped his hand with her own. He stilled, watching as she turned his palm up and kissed at the joint of his wrist, achingly familiar to his own actions not too long ago.

She tried not to smile as she let go of him, but it was pretty much impossible.

Hux flushed, glancing around the shuttle’s cabin, but Finn was up in the cockpit with Poe; they were alone. He relaxed slightly, but quickly froze again once he felt Rose lacing her fingers within his, trapping him from putting his glove back on.

Was she mad at him?

A little.

But, she liked how his bare hand felt in hers more than she wanted to be annoyed with him.

“I’m s—”

“Hey, it’s fine.” Rose squeezed his hand, letting out a huge sigh. “We’re all alive, that’s what matters.”

There was that look in his eyes again; intense and personal, but not quite lust. Like she were a spark of brilliance come to life. Or maybe some wonder; the only good thing in the entire galaxy.

“Why do you do that?” She asked suddenly.

Hux blinked. “Do what.”

“Look at me like that.”

He really blushed then; she watched it flair under the thin film of grime that was coating his face. With the way his head was turned, she could see it even reached his ears.

She expected him to deny it, but instead, he mumbled, “Isn’t it obvious?”

Rose blinked, but then grinned, sly.

“I’m ‘simply too powerful to deny’ huh?”

He frowned, but it was slanted towards a pout. “Don’t gloat.”

Rose laughed, she couldn’t help it, but the joyous sound quickly gave way to tired tears.

She felt Hux’s hand twitch in hers.

“I’m so exhausted,” she said, wiping her eyes with a sniff and sitting back in the jumpseat. She let out a stuttering breath.

“Rest then,” he said, quiet and concerned.

“Hey! Hugs! A little help up here?”

Poe’s voice came from the cockpit.

Rose let him slide his hand from her grasp.

“Rest,” he urged again, eyebrows jumping, before rising stiffly to his feet; tall in the tiny shuttle. 

“What is it,” he snapped tersely, stalking from the cabin to the bridge.

Rose smiled at his gruff tone, where moments before it had been almost tender. That was the whole of him, she supposed with a small snort. She moved the med kit aside to lay down.

Hux had left his now rather singed greatcoat on the next seat over. Rose pulled it closer, bundling it up as a makeshift pillow. It smelled scorched, but a little like him, too. 

She wasn’t sure she’d be able to sleep, not after everything that had happened, but she was soon drifting off at the sounds of the boys talking on the bridge.

“We should all go back to the Resistance base, discuss options, and go from there,” Finn proposed.

“I’m surprised,” Hux said. “You would help the First Order? Lead us to your base?”

“They’re just kids.” The other man had said, and shrugged. “I remember what it was like, don’t you?”

Yes, Hux did.

The Destroyer’s Captain, a young woman named Andara Triss, didn’t balk when Hux gave her the order to follow his coordinates to the Resistance base. She was eager to procure safe passage, if not provisions, for the cadets. 

Hours later, they all landed back at base, and the entire place was _buzzing_ , even after Poe ordered everyone to stand down. Rose could hear them before they even opened the hatch door as she yawned herself awake.

In Dameron’s defense, Hux thought, no explanation could fully prepare anyone for the sudden appearance of a First Order Star Destroyer above _Ajan Kloss_.

He pitied the man with the smallest mote of sympathy he could possibly muster.

Captain Triss, came planetside with her Lieutenant not long after. They’d discussed terms, Hux acting both as General and mediator.

“Are we… surrendering, sir?”

Hux ignored the look Dameron had given him. “It is a mutually beneficial ceasefire, Captain,” he’d explained. “Nothing more. With the Sith still at large, it is more than prudent for us to pool resources. For now.”

He hadn’t chastised her for her inaction on the battlefield. It had been a prudent decision for her to hold off on taking sides. If anything, with how close the blade had been to their necks, Hux was impressed at her loyalty to the Order. 

To his dark delight, Neither Poe nor Triss seemed to like each other very much. The Commander on the other hand, D’Acy, formed a quick rapport with the young woman.

A tentative truce was struck. The _Contrador_ and Resistance would share supplies, the cadets would be allowed down to the planet’s surface, and Resistance medics would be able to go aboard and check on the children. A temporary situation before a more permanent solution could be brokered.

* * *

Later that evening, Hux watched the flames of the bonfire leap and flicker as he ruminated on the day’s events.

A log crackled; showering sparks up into the night. Somewhere along the way he’d forgotten what contained fire looked like. Something primal hummed in him at the sight of it; the sound, the faint roar. Destruction, but at a distance.

Hux followed the dying embers as they floated skyward, trailing off against the Star Destroyer above the planet’s atmosphere. The ship still glowed faintly with sunset, even as the planet had turned below its star’s light. It made the hull look aflame.

He thought of the cadets. Captain Triss had expressed her desire to send the very youngest back to their families, if possible. He’d allow it. Twenty thousand down to fifteen already, and it hadn’t even been a full sleep cycle. No doubt more would follow.

The last of the First Order, he thought wistfully; dwindling embers day by day.

Perhaps it was for the best, in the end.

“This seat taken?”

He looked over at Rose, drawn by her voice, quiet in the darkening evening. She’d ducked out during negotiations, presumably to use the fresher.

She’d changed out of her Major’s uniform, now back in her normal Resistance fatigues. The collar was uneven, somewhat up more on one side; top buttons undone. She was much more relaxed out of her stiff, First Order regalia, but Hux thought that only made her all the more imposing. She wasn’t Major Tico anymore; she was Rose.

Hux scooted over on his log bench, giving her access to sit. When she did, he noticed she was carrying a cup.

“Want a sip?” She brandished it in his direction. “We can share.”

Hux’s lip curled. “What is it?”

“Well, I don’t _really_ know, but it’s strong. Try it.”

Hux licked his lips with reservation, taking the mug from her hand. He sniffed it, giving her a look over the rim of the cup. Light from the fire flickered over her face, darkening her already soulful eyes.

“It smells like engine coolant.”

Rose laughed, rubbing the back of her neck. “Yeah, it’s not the best. But hey, we should celebrate. The cadets are safe; some of them are even returning to their home systems. That’s a good thing,” she added at his expression. “It means you made the right choice. The _good_ one.”

Hux wrinkled his nose, busying himself with taking a sip so he wouldn’t have to look at her eager, hopeful expression. Hope; something he couldn’t even tease her about anymore because she’d been right all along.

The liquor burned his tongue with an unpleasant tang.

Hux swallowed and pulled a face.

“Truly awful,” he stated down into the cup, as if informing the liquid itself of its own hellishness. He took another sip anyway.

Rose giggled softly, swaying back as she pulled her knees up, wrapping her arms loosely around them and staring skyward at the belly of the Destroyer.

“Do you think they’re alright up there? It’s too bad we don’t have enough resources to bring them down all at once.”

“Rotating shifts are fine,” Hux muttered, passing the cup back to her. “Captain Triss knows what she’s doing. She just wants what’s best for her men.”

“ _Your_ men, you mean?”

Hux blinked, and suddenly realized he was leaning forward, arms on his knees, back rounded. He sat up straight again, clearing his throat.

“Yes,” he glanced away. “Of course.”

Rose was giving him a searching look, warm and with an upturned purse to her lips. She took a sip of the moonshine.

“ _Supreme Leader_ Armitage Hux, huh?”

He scoffed, unsure if the warmth in him was from the bonfire or hearing her say those words. Thrilling, but also, admittedly, slightly hollow.

“Not that it means much of anything anymore,” he muttered, grinding the heel of his boot into the soft earth. “The troops will end up being disbanded. It is the natural order of things.”

“Do you still want it?”

He pivoted a little toward her. “Pardon?”

“You know,” Rose made a gesture, passing him the cup again. “All of it. The Order, you at the top; the power to exact your will upon the galaxy.”

Hux swallowed thickly.

“Yes,” he said, gloved hands constricting around the cup as he took it. “But… sometimes we cannot control what things we want.” He hadn’t meant to glance at her _like that_ when he’d said _those words_ , but he had, and the sudden snap of hunger in her tugged at all that made him.

In all honesty, he wanted her most of all.

It was a terrifying thing, because Rose wasn’t _power;_ a thing he could capture in his hand and bend to his whims and wishes. Her heart was too fierce. He had to contend with her as a _person_. Someone who could hurt him. Who wouldn’t, he believed that, but it was still such a _risk._

Hux closed his eyes, taking a rather large swig of liquor. He liked his whiskey, but even this made him shudder.

He passed the cup back, but as Rose took it, she did so with her hand over his, resting it there for a long moment.

She leaned over.

Hux’s heart leapt, even as his body stilled, eyes darting around. They weren’t the only people out that night, enjoying the bonfire.

Rose seemed to sense his hesitation and stopped her advance. Perhaps she could understand why he was wary, but she sort of didn’t care if anyone saw them. Rose just wanted to kiss him again.

Instead, she took the cup, moving it to her other hand so she could hold his down between them, lacing their fingers together like she had back in the shuttle.

She didn’t miss the way his expression softened, and it warmed her like the liquor in her belly, spreading out to the very tips of her fingers.

They sat together like that, passing their cup. At the point in which Rose was pretty sure she was comfortably tipsy to say the least, Finn came out of the base, walking towards them.

“Call for you on comms,” Finn said to Hux, hiking his thumb. “Someone’s asking about passcodes for data records.”

Hux sighed, detangling his hand from Rose’s as he stood, adjusting his uniform. Even in the glow of the fire, Rose could see his cheeks were pink.

“Can’t bloody wait till morning,” he groused, stalking off across the grounds back to base, hair reflecting the firelight like a little bobbing flame.

The fire popped.

“ _That_ guy?” Finn asked incredulously, pointing discreetly after the General’s retreating back.

Rose gave a start, unaware that she had been watching Hux go with a lax little half-smile.

“Huh?” She felt a simmer of embarrassment.

Finn rolled his eyes, huffing loudly as he sunk down onto an upturned crate. Rose fiddled with the cup in her hand.

“You really like him,” Finn said after a moment.

Rose pinched the bridge of her nose, trying to get a handle on herself. Hadn’t she just said she didn’t care if anyone knew? Why was she feeling so mortified? 

Finn was quiet, and then, “Did something happen? On the Dreadnought?”

“Yeah,” Rose said, muffled a little by her hand. “We sort of… had a disagreement. And then I… I sort of… kissed him.”

Finn’s eyes went wide, mouth gone slack, before he quickly got himself together.

He leaned way forward, hissing conspiratorially. “You _what?!”_

“I wanted to!” She protested. “And… and I think he wanted to, too.”

As her voice trailed off, the sound of the fire grew between them.

“You know…” Finn said after a pause, giving Rose a side-long glance. “He’s probably almost done with that call.” 

Rose frowned at him, head tilting. 

“No one else is in the comms room right now, sooo…” Finn’s eyebrows jumped as he nodded toward the direction of the base.

Rose was visibly confused.

“It seems as if I’m getting mixed messages here,” she muttered dryly, and then was thunderstruck by how much those words sounded like _his_. “But...” She bit her lip to contain a smile, brows knit together. “Are you telling me to _go for it?”_

“Technically I didn’t say that,” he muttered, holding a finger up. “Plausible deniability.”

Rose rolled her eyes.

“It’s just that I’ve been thinking,” Finn went on, voice a touch introspective. “We all keep surviving. I used to chalk it up to dumb luck, but now; the Force…” He sighed. “I wish Rey would have stayed a bit longer. I have so many questions.”

Rose stood slowly, giving him a soft smile as she walked over. “We’ll see Rey again; she promised.” 

She stopped beside him. “And is that really what you think the Force is doing with me and Hux? Bringing us together?”

“It did for me,” Finn said in all seriousness, looking up at her. “It did for Rey.”

Something warm wrapped around her heart at the thought.

Rose patted his shoulder, walking across the now dark lawn towards the cave base’s entrance. She left her cup on a bench outside.

Within the base, the lighting was poor; nothing like the Dreadnought. The rough, stone-hewn hallways were cast in shadow by the yellow string of bulbs above, the space made just a bit smaller and darker by crates of replacement equipment lining the corridors.

Rose made her way towards the comms room until she heard people speaking up ahead. 

_“I can tell them ‘no’, General.”_ The woman on the radio was Captain Triss.

Around the corner, she heard Hux’s huffing sigh. Rose peeked further and saw he was standing in the low-lit comms room, back to her.

“No, it is a reasonable trade.”

_“Sir…”_ Her voice sounded unsure, but then she remembered herself. _“Yes, sir.”_

“Briefing in the morning,” Hux said.

_“Yes, sir.”_

Rose ducked back into the hallway, pressing against the wall.

_Trade?_ What kind of trade?

He better not be thinking of doing something stupid again, she thought with a determined expression. Damn it, would she really have to go back to using the cuffs?

“Don’t you know that it is impolite to eavesdrop?”

Rose jumped, looking up at Hux, who had come upon her like a silent, stalking cat. He’d caught her by complete surprise where she was standing against the wall.

His lips were pulled into a frown as he looked down at her, his height filling up the small corridor even more.

“What trade?” She asked, before he could steer the conversation off course.

He glared, but it lacked any real venom. “You will learn about it at the briefing tomorrow.”

As if that alone would satisfy her.

“You can’t tell me now?”

He glowered, but the corner of his mouth twitched up a fraction. “So impatient.”

“Well, _geez!_ ” Rose huffed. “Guess I’m just a little _nervous_ now _,_ seeing as you’ve already tried _once_ to throw yourself into harm’s way.” She gave him her shoulder, moving as if to turn back down the way she came.

She didn’t get very far, as Hux’s arm was suddenly next to the side of her face, his palm coming to rest with a thump against the wall by her head, trapping her.

In the quiet of the base, Rose could hear that thump loud in her ears. Or was that her hammering heart?

She glanced his way.

Hux was bent towards her, leaning over from the placement of his arm. There was a faint blush dusting his cheekbones, and Rose knew at least a part of that was the liquor coursing through him. It certainly roared through her. The other part, however…

She turned, flattening her spine once again upon the wall, tilting her head way back against the stone to look up at him. She heard his gloved hand constrict by her ear; a faint rasp of leather.

Then he went still, save for his green eyes. His gaze flitted over her face, her neck, down and back up again. 

Rose took a deep breath; she felt it heave in her chest.

“Do something,” she whispered, quiet in the space between them. His brows knit together. “Something. _Anything_.” 

The feeling from the bonfire had returned, only now that they were alone, the intensity was searing. Away from the others he seemed less hesitant, too. Good. She pressed her legs together. “I don’t care what, just do some—”

Her voice died as he reached up, wrapping a gloved hand gently around her throat. No pressure, not really, just a barely-there feeling fluttering upon her skin. But as she felt his thumb gently run down the front of her neck, the entire length of it, goosebumps rose in his wake.

She swallowed unconsciously; felt the pressure of him against her windpipe with the movement.

His frown was gone, but it had been replaced with an almost pained expression. Brittle, and achingly sweet.

Rose’s heart trembled with anticipation.

Keeping her head steady with his hand, he leaned down and took her mouth.

It was a much slower kiss than she’d given him, earlier on the Dreadnought. More careful. After a sweep of his tongue across her bottom lip, he gently coaxed her mouth open, tilting his head.

As he deepened the contact, she instinctively tried to take more control, impatient indeed, but the hand around her throat twitched. With more than a little effort, she made herself surrender to him instead, hearing him exhale through his nose at her compliance, shifting closer.

She let him explore her, nibbling here and there at her mouth as he tested both their boundaries. More his, Rose thought, since she was already trying to contain the shiver in her legs, easily more willing than he was to abandon all hesitancies.

After a number of plush, languid kisses, he drew his lips away from hers, pulling at her mouth with a sideways friction, only to work a kiss against the corner of her parted smile, then on her jaw, then lower still.

He was close now, having inched his way forward, and as he bent to pull at the skin of her throat with a nip of his teeth, Rose let out a breathy, satisfied sound. _Finally._ Her eyelids fluttered, looking at the ceiling over his brilliantly ginger head as he bent before her. He’d cleaned up since the mission, but the pomade was back.

Closing her eyes, she let her arms reach out under his and encircle his shoulder blades, knotting her hands behind his back. She drew in a deep breath of him: dark leather and amber, all wrapped up in the smell of the earlier campfire. Her fingers worked into the bottom of his hairline.

She needed him closer, but she was still sort of pinned by his hand and his mouth. Rose extended her leg to hook around the outside of his knee. He let out a noise of surprise, a rush of breath over the dewy spot his mouth had made upon her neck. She shuddered at the contrasting temperature of sigh and skin.

He seemed to get her meaning though, pivoting his weight onto that leg, bending it forward until it nudged against the inside of her thigh. He pulled back to look at her, slowly releasing her throat and letting his hand travel down to her upper arm. He gripped her there with the cuff of his hand, gloved thumb making slow circles against the fabric. A comforting gesture perhaps, but with the amount of pressure he was using, probably from nerves, it danced around pain.

He was breathing heavy as Rose gave him a little tilt of her chin, permission, and he let his knee drop against the wall in the space between her legs.

Rose closed her eyes, lips pressing together with a warm hum at the new, delightful pressure there, and again as he shifted up against her a fraction more, making her tremble.

“Hux,” she took his name as a breath. He was so close to the center of her; warm and slick. She moved, finally sliding against his knee, needing that friction. As she moaned softly, he made a deep, feral kind of noise in the back of his throat.

When she was finally bold enough to meet his eye, she appreciated the way he looked at her; eyelids heavy, pupils blown wide, his mouth pink from all its attentions. He was nearly mussed up enough.

Well, she’d muss him up plenty more once she peeled off his jacket.

One of her arms slipped down from his back, inching around to the front of him. Carefully, she began nudging her fingers through the front seam of the fabric, searching for the fasteners.

As her fingers finally worked themselves inside, and Hux could feel the wiggling search of her hand against his chest, he began to lose his nerve.

Over their weeks together, she’d stripped him down: emotionally and willfully. But now she had herself hooked beneath all his remaining armor. Even if she knew who he was, what he’d done, she hadn’t _seen_ him.

Hux swallowed.

But, what if she accepted him?

Well, what if she didn’t.

What if he just couldn’t do it?

He wanted to try. With Rose, he wanted to try.

But— it was so fast, so much, all at once.

Rose watched how his eyes darted away, noticed how stiff he was compared to when she was nearly wrapped around him and he’d moved like a ripple of want against her.

Her lips parted slightly. “Are you okay?”

His jaw worked, throat constricting as he swallowed.

Rose blinked in surprise, letting her grip on his jacket loosen. "Have you... not done this before?"

"No, I have," he said quickly, sharply, a bit hurt, but then he grimaced. "Just, not... not like this. Not... feeling like this."

Love swelled in her chest.

_Love._

Huh.

Maybe she should have been a bit more surprised at that, calling it love. But maybe she’d already known. Her care for him had come slowly at first, building as they spent their days together; learned more about each other. Honestly, there, in her heart, felt like the most natural place to keep him.

“It’s fine, we can go slower,” she whispered.

Gently, she released him from her grasp, and slowly smoothed out the front of his jacket where she’d bunched and creased it.

He looked a little relieved.

It was hard to keep the disappointment from her face. Rose still wanted to sink herself down onto him, nothing in-between. Her body nearly vibrated with it. But she had to remind herself, this was as much about him as it was about her. He wasn’t running from her; he wanted to touch her. The mere knowledge of his desire simmered her down.

“By the way,” she added. “You’re a really good kisser.”

She grinned at the blooming embarrassment that flared down his neck.

Hux pouted, trying to be angry through the blush and the kindness of her words.

“You are… worth the effort,” he muttered.

Rose laughed, leaning forward to kiss him again, slow and deep; soft and warm.

When she pulled away, he did too, releasing her from the wall.

“Do you want to go sit by the fire again?” She took his hand in hers, kissing the space between his glove and his sleeve. His breath hitched.

“Only if you promise you’ll refrain from doing anything… _untoward_ ,” he said, fiddling with the cuff of the glove and giving her a look.

Rose chuckled. “I can try, but it might be a little difficult.” Her brows jumped with suggestion. “Maybe you’ll just have to _order me_ not to touch you.”

Hux smiled at that, a very small smile, but it was honestly the truest one she’d ever seen on him.

It filled her with warmth, and hope, and love.

To her delight, as the evening wore on and after she’d yawned for about the millionth time, Hux offered to walk her back to her room. It was sweet, Rose thought, like he was offering taking her home after some sort of date. It was attentive of him, and unexpectedly charming.

“You’ll be at the briefing tomorrow, I assume?” He questioned her as she punched in her door code, standing behind her in the hallway with his hands clasped behind his back.

“Of course!” She turned and grinned at him. “I want to see what this big plan of yours is, don’t I?”

He gave her a sly look, reaching out to tilt a finger against the underside of her chin as he leaned forward. She let him do it, but was sure to add a bit of resistance; keep her jaw a bit weighty. She didn’t want him to think _all_ the fight had gone out of her.

He smirked, and kissed her soundly.

“Goodnight, Rose,” he said after releasing her.

“Night,” she breathed, blushing at the sound of her own voice as she slipped inside, the door sliding closed behind her.

With a giddy, hysterical smile, she glanced around her room but didn’t even see it. All she could focus on was how the goodness inside of her was welling up as elation in her chest, warming her from the inside out.

When she thought of being caught by Hux in comms’ room hallway, their bodies pressed against each other in the dim light, that warmth surged hot in her blood, jolting down to settle as an ache between her legs.

Shucking off her clothes and flopping down onto her cot, Rose thanked the stars she was afforded her own room. Once the overhead light had been switched off and she was burrowed under the blankets, Rose let her fingers walk the traces of him all over her body, settling eventually in the place she wanted him most. 

Rose pressed her face into the pillow, caressing herself, and thought of him.

\---

The next morning, she finished getting ready in her room, having already visited the fresher and returned to her dorm to finish up. Soon, Rose was exiting the pneumatic door, ready to face the day, and was surprised to find Hux standing there, looking as pensive and dramatic as ever.

He was in uniform, and Rose eyed the First Order patch on his arm with some reservation.

“Morning,” she said, as he stepped out of the way for her. “Briefing’s not this early, is it?”

“No…” he said, suddenly looking a scant more insecure about his choice to stand there and wait for her. “Caf?” He asked, a little abruptly.

Rose cocked her head. “You want caf?”

He gave her an unamused look. “For _you_.”

“Oh!” She blushed, still feeling a little morning fuzziness. Suddenly, the image of him from the night before, how she’d pictured him when she’d been alone with her sultry thoughts; it all appeared unbidden in her mind’s eye. She stilled as the heat of it flooded through her, no doubt coloring her complexion. It wasn’t an entirely unwelcome feeling, but it did make looking at him a little difficult.

“Yes!” She agreed with a flutter, avoiding his gaze. “Caf! We can go to the mess hall…”

“Obviously that is what I am meaning to do; walk with you there.”

Rose grinned. Walk with her. It was like he were courting her in some fancy holodrama.

“Of course!” She laughed, glancing up at him, embarrassed but giddy all at the same. 

Hux took in her pleased, if not fervid expression, and his shoulders relaxed a bit, drawing ease off her delight. 

“Shall we?” He asked.

They had a little time before the meeting to stop by and make up some drinks; tea for him, caf for her, before they headed to the conference room.

It was supposed to be a routine morning brief, how most mornings on the base usually started, only Rose assumed today would involve a bit more info concerning their new First Order ‘allies’. According to Hux’s call, he’d have some news to share as well, and she was eager to hear it. But when they arrived, the little room was already at capacity, overflowing into the hall.

Rose sheltered the lip of her yellow mug behind a curved hand so nothing would spill amid the throng of people. Walking behind Hux proved useful; not only did his height help cut through the crowd, but most stepped widely out of his way, though they did throw him dirty looks.

Inside the meeting room, D’Acy was seated at the long table there, along with Poe and Finn, next to which there was a seat saved for her. Captain Triss, as well as her subordinate, a man Rose had met the day before as Lieutenant Desyk, stood along the far wall. Various other Resistance members sat upon the floor, or stood at the back. 

It was clear Hux was channeling his former self as he walked commandingly over towards the Captain. Rose wanted to reach out and say something to him, maybe give him words of encouragement, but it was obvious he was very focused, so she thought it better not to be too informal.

“What’s going on?” Rose asked, as she slipped into her seat next to Finn, watching Hux from across the room as he began conversing with the other First Order members in a low voices.

“Apparently, they’ve received a proposal.”

“A proposal? From who?”

Finn shifted in his chair. “The New Republic. What was left of it, anyway.”

A sudden, icy cold feeling dropped into the pit of her stomach.

“What,” Rose breathed, scarcely able to do so.

D’Acy hushed the room with a wave of her hand, motioning for Hux to take the floor. He stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“Late the previous evening, the First Order was contacted by the New Republic,” he informed those sitting at the table; Rose and the other Resistance Generals. His eyes were cold, detached. He spoke with clipped, formal tone, as if he were giving an official report.

“The Council was informed of our surviving numbers; the ship and its complement of cadets. They have expressed their desire to detain what remains of the First Order.”

“But they’re just kids!” Rose blurted.

Hux gave her a look that bordered on irritation. Even with Rose, he still detested being interrupted. 

“They have agreed to accelerate the effort in locating and reuniting the youngest cadets, those under fifteen years, with their families when possible. They are also willing to offer asylum to any older cadets willing to be transferred into the Republic’s new security force.”

There was a swell of murmuring from the assembled crowd.

“That goes for everyone,” D’Acy cut in, standing up from her chair. “The Resistance has also been in contact with the New Republic. They’ve set up headquarters on Lira, and are looking to incorporate the Resistance into a new peacekeeping task force. Anyone who wishes to join may do so.”

“And what happens to those who don’t?” Rose asked sharply. “Join, I mean,” she added, trying to soften her words.

D’Acy frowned slightly. “Those in the Resistance who do not wish to join?”

Rose’s gaze darted to Hux and then back to the Commander. “Sure.”

The woman nodded slowly. “Any current Resistance members are free to resign their posts at any time. We simply ask that you check in with your squad or division leader, so that we may record your discharge, release your last commission, and of course, give our thanks.”

A hush came over the room.

“The war’s over?” Someone in the back of the pack piped up.

“The Sith remain a threat,” Hux cut in. “It is, admittedly, _prudent_ to formulate a defense force.”

Poe cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. “We’ll be escorting the _Contrador_ to Lira in a few day’s time. I want a few fighters to join us.” He looked around at his top squadron leaders.

“Wait, wait, wait a second.” Rose blurted, rising from her chair and gesticulating. Everyone’s focus rounded immediately on her. 

“There was a _trade.”_ She shot a look at Hux. “What was the trade?”

He pressing his lips thin, wishing she wouldn’t make such a scene. 

“The New Republic is only willing to pardon younger members of the Order if _ranking_ _members_ are remanded into Republic custody.”

His words lanced into Rose’s heart. 

Ranking members. Like Captain Triss, Officer Vitton; _General Hux._

And.. New Republic custody? The people whose star system he’d completely obliterated not even a year ago? 

What would they do to him?

There was more muttering from the crowd, now steering towards jubilant, but all Rose could feel was dread.

\---

“It is a good trade,” Hux said into the quiet of the room.

“I don’t care!” Rose seethed.

After the meeting, D’Acy had escorted Captain Triss back to the Destroyer. Once everyone had dispersed, it was only Rose, Finn, Poe, and Hux left in the small conference room.

“It’s a _shit_ trade,” she added, with heavy emphasis.

Hux drew his shoulders up. “Myself and a few others for the safety of the rest of my men?”

Rose growled. “Oh, so they’re _your men_ again, huh?”

Hux made a face, but looked away.

“Look, there’s gonna be a tribunal,” Finn said, trying to placate her. “They’re not just going to throw them all in jail. There’ll be witnesses; testimonials. He told us about Exegol, about Palpatine. And he gave us the intel on the weapons factories. Not to mention the mission with the Dreadnought. They can’t ignore all that.”

Poe was glaring at Hux like he’d prefer they skip right over to the jailing bit.

“I’m going to fight for you,” Rose said, furious, like she dared Hux to try and deny her.

He gave her a defeated look.

“I assumed as much.”

His tone made her anger flag. She was still indignant, but she was relieved to know he wasn’t pushing her away. 

She was still skeptical, though. “You’ll let me? Speak on your behalf?”

“If that is what you wish,” he said, brows pulling together. He looked genuinely moved by her passion.

Rose huffed. “Fine.”

“Hey, Lieutenant General?”

A young engineer poked his head in through the doorway.

Rose turned.

“There’s a hydrocooling transfuser I was told you could help me with?”

Begrudgingly, Rose moved toward the door with an annoyed sigh. “We’re not done talking about this,” she said, rounding on him before she left, waggling a finger in Hux’s direction.

He stood with his usual formal air. “Of course.”

She made a gruff sound, stomping off after the engineer.

Hux watched her go.

After a moment’s pause, Poe spoke. “You don’t honestly think the New Republic is going to give you clemency just because you were an informant.”

Hux turned to look at Poe, who’d been exceptionally quiet the entire time.

He caught the man’s eye.

“It is… unlikely,” Hux agreed, with solemn resolve.

“When Rose says she’s going to fight for you,” Poe went on, “she means it.”

Hux gave a tired laugh. “Undoubtedly. She’s too much of a romantic.”

“She’s not the only one.” Poe’s stare was intense. “I find it hard to believe you’re willing to simply waltz into the welcoming arms of the New Republic. They’re going to arrest you the moment we’re planetside. What’s your game, Hugs?”

Hux drew in a slow breath. “For a very long time, I fought to survive. And the price, it seemed, was that everything I—” He faltered, swallowed, and drew himself up to regather his thoughts. “Everything I’ve ever loved ended up dead. Perhaps now I am simply content enough to let my fate play out.”

“Yeah,” Finn agreed, hands on his hips, nodding emphatically. “Trust in the Force.”

Hux grimaced. “Not exactly the analogy I was going for.”

“Force doesn't care,” Finn said matter-of-factly, folding his arms across his chest. “Force does what it wants.”

Hux smiled thinly. “I’ve noticed.”

* * *

Check out this amazing art by @NightInOurVeins on twitter! She's been doing some lovely gingerrose artwork; some inspired by this story, like this one! I'm so incredibly humbled you have no idea!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to the essential workers out there in this trying time! Local government workers, pharmacists, trash collectors, and of course everyone in all facets of the medial community! You guys are awesome!
> 
> Thanks Brit & Dan for being amazing editors, as always.


	14. Chapter 14

Hux wasn't waiting for her in the hall the next morning. Rose found him instead at the table in the canteen they'd shared before for morning drinks. He was sitting with his back rigid as usual, but his gaze was cast down, focusing on a datapad and his tall, black mug. He was so engrossed in reading he didn't even hear her walk up until the last moment.

"You don't seem like the kind of person who usually loses track of time," she needled playfully, sliding down into the seat across from him.

Surprise flickered briefly over his delicate, pale features before he frowned.

"The Resistance's alacrity and lack of order seems to finally be corrupting me."

"Oh, of course," Rose replied, in an overly-serious voice. His mouth twitched up into a little smile, even as he looked down towards the table.

"What are you reading?" She asked.

"Dispatches. News cables. Things I've missed since my arrival here."

Looking at the datapad upside-down, Rose could still see one of the headlines included the name 'New Republic'.

"Are you nervous?"

"Hm?" Hux's eyes flicked up to Rose.

She tried again. "Are you worried about tomorrow?"

The mission to Lira was the next morning.

Hux narrowed his eyes. Not in malice; only as he appraised her.

This was her roundabout way of telling him she was worried, wasn't it?

"I've been reading about them. The New Republic, I mean," she said quickly. Hux watched her with a very careful, hesitant expression. "Did you know that when the Empire fell, the New Republic allowed for leniency in the majority of sentences? They even invited former Imperial governors to join the New Republic!"

Despite her look of optimism, his heart felt heavy.

 _Was that before or after they'd all been vaporized?_ Is what he wanted to say, but he couldn't hurt her.

"That's encouraging," was all he allowed, taking a long sip of his tea.

Rose looked undeterred by his less than enthusiastic tone.

That made him nervous. Not so much the mission, but her unwillingness to be clear eyed with what was undoubtedly about to happen. It was reminiscent of her over-optimistic release of him into the Resistance's general populace. Perhaps she'd forgotten, but he'd almost been beaten to death.

That bit of Rose he loved, that caring, hopeful passion— too much of it was dangerous. Especially if one used it to hide from uncomfortable truths.

Was she in denial? Or was she simply trying to keep positive?

"Would you like help with the Y-Wing engine today?" He asked gently, smiling a bit. If this was his last day as a free man, he wanted to spend it with her. Just the two of them. Tinkering away.

Rose smiled broad.

"Yeah," she said. "That would be nice."

They worked the entire day together. To Rose's begrudging delight, Hux always seemed to have the tool she needed before she could even ask for it.

"Can you hand me the—"

Rose pulled her head out from inside the engine, but found the multi-tool she'd required already hanging in front of her face. Hux was holding it out to her without looking, eyes trained upon his datapad as he perched on top of the ship's side panels, legs drawn up slightly.

"Cheeky," Rose mumbled, snatching it from his gloved fingers and trying very hard not to smile.

"Pardon?"

"Whatever," she puffed, ducking back under before a wickedly broad grin broke across her face. She could almost forget the mission, like this.

As the afternoon drew to a close, they both had to admit that the Y-Wing's coolant system had been fixed hours ago, and now they were simply continuing to putter around as an excuse to spend time together. At sundown, they stopped for the night.

At the canteen for supper, they ate at the same table again. It was sort of becoming 'their' table, and it delighted Rose to no end.

"Will you do anything? Tomorrow morning?" Rose pushed food around her plate. "Before we're supposed to leave?"

Hux thought for a moment, running a hand over the barely-there stubble on his face. "I think I'll shave."

Despite the nervous butterflies in her stomach, Rose had to laugh at that.

"Okay, after that. I was thinking we could meet extra early. For caf. And tea," she added.

He gave her a small smile, but a true one. "I would like that."

* * *

Poe was taking the scenic route. New planets always did fascinate him to no end, so of course he had to take a look.

Poe was piloting the command shuttle, while Chewy and Finn had gone ahead in the Falcon and met the representative of the New Republic Council. A few light fighters had also followed. They'd all ridden in the belly of the Destroyer most of the way from Ajan Kloss, but had left the larger ship hanging in orbit.

Across the shuttle's passenger compartment, Captain Triss and her Lieutenant sat quietly.

Rose took in the planet over her right shoulder, through the command shuttle's viewport.

Lira.

The planet was shrouded in mist and cloud as they came through the atmosphere. As they flew in closer, Rose saw peatland forests and native woodlands. It looked a bit damp in some places; mossy and rocky with little waterfalls and windswept uplands.

In all honesty, it was beautiful.

The base came into view, with a little town set up in the surrounding area, adjacent to the more militaristic buildings of the Council's headquarters.

Close. The landing pad was so close.

"Rose."

She turned to Hux, who was seated beside her.

"Hm? Oh…"

His hand came up to gently cup the side of her face. She caught the look in his narrowed eyes, a desirous flash of green; long lashes fluttering against his skin.

He'd taken off his glove, and his palm was warm.

Rose closed her eyes at the feel of him; the contact alone had her leaning into his touch.

Keeping her face steady, he kissed her.

She responded to his advance, opening her mouth for him with a sigh. As he swept past her lips with his tongue, kissing her thoroughly, Rose realized how much she enjoyed letting him have his way with her mouth. She could just let go, and he was there to catch her. Soft and warm.

Except there was more to this particular kiss, she thought. A desperate tinge; a hint of sadness.

It only made her more determined. She'd make them see. They'd all soon understand who Armitage Hux really was. Who he had become. He'd made progress; he could heal. He could go on to do great works for the good of the galaxy, she _knew it._

The command shuttle jerked a bit as it touched down, rocking them. Before he pulled back from her, Rose caught his fingers with her hand, and held his gaze fiercely.

"That's not a goodbye kiss," she said, with a challenging edge.

Hux huffed, lips parted, like she'd tugged the sound from him in one sharp jerk. His eyes were bright with emotion, though his expression was decidedly impassive.

"I sincerely hope not," he said at length, but the way he held her, she might have felt him tremble.

"Alright kids," Poe said, strolling down from the cockpit, hitting the command pad that started the lowering of the ramp. There, as the foggy light and the cool, green-bright smelling breeze whipped into the shuttle, it revealed Finn and Chewy waiting for them upon the ground.

Captain Triss looked at Hux, who gave her a nod. She snapped her wrist at her Lieutenant as she rose to her feet. The younger man followed her down the ramp.

Hux stood, bringing Rose up with him.

She attempted to interlace their fingers.

"We mustn't," Hux said, firm, but with a tinge of regret. Before she could argue, Hux added, "I do not wish you to be associated with the Order."

He gave her a small smile, but she thought it looked sad. "Allow me that, at least."

A shiver ran down Rose's spine, but she nodded, following Hux down the ramp.

There stood their welcoming party: a member of the Council was present, a willowy female with light tawny skin holding a datapad. She was close to human in her features, but taller, and with an elongated neck and arm joints. Accompanying her were a number of Peacekeeper soldiers, dressed in blue and white uniforms, their tinted visors dropped over their eyes like an X-wing helmet, obscuring their identities.

Cowards. He'd broadcast his entire image across the galaxy on Starkiller, and these men weren't even strong enough to show their faces.

Rose thought it was a rather… large number of Peacekeeping soldiers. Eight in total. That was… quite a lot, wasn't it?

Four of the Peacekeepers were already cuffing Captain Triss and her Lieutenant, two attending each, leading them over to one of the two prison transports.

The tall woman, dressed in a long-sleeved, lilac gown, tutted.

"The poor dears," she muttered, looking at the retreating backs of the younger First Order officers. "They will be tried and processed," she said to the Peacekeeper beside her, making some notes on the datapad, "but I believe they may be more valuable if retrained. We shall work on that over time."

Upon seeing Hux, one of the Peacekeepers strode towards them, a pair of stun cuffs hanging in his hands.

Rose bristled, taking a small step in front Hux, looking at the Peacekeeper with a furious expression. "Is that really necessary? Isn't it obvious he's surrendering?"

At Rose's voice, the woman's large, long-lashed eyes swiveled in their direction. As her wide mouth smiled, Rose could see sharp little rows of teeth.

"Hold!" The woman called, before the peacekeeper could cuff him. Her long legs bent oddly under the fabric of her gown as she walked toward them.

"General Hux," she said as she approached, like he was a gift she would no longer be denied.

"And you are?" Hux asked blandly, ridged and cold.

The woman flashed him a sardonic smile. "I am Councilwoman Zeena, member of the New Republican Senate."

"Charmed," he replied, as if he were anything but.

"General Poe Dameron, ma'am," Poe darted forward between them and stuck out his hand, perhaps trying to ease the tension before Hux did anything stupid.

The councilwoman paused, turning to look at Poe with her unnaturally wide eyes.

"Your Commander mentioned you, General Dameron," the woman replied demurely, taking Poe's hand with a limp wrist, rather than a firm shake.

Poe nodded to the others. "This is General Finn, Lieutenant General Rose Tico, and Chewbacca.

"My condolences to you all for your Princess' passing," she added, looking at the four of them. "She was a valiant crusader for justice, and an ally to many in the New Republic." Her eyes flashed. "Even if some of her ideas were a little… unconventional."

Rose was confused. She… hadn't liked General Leia? It had never occurred to her that there were members of the New Republic who _hadn't liked_ Leia Organa.

"Ahha… right," Poe said, looking a little on-edge himself.

"Your Commander D'Acy," the woman said as she released Poe's hand. "She has extended to you all our invitations, yes? In joining our new force?"

Everyone was silent, which she must have taken as ascent.

"Good." She smiled, finally turning her attention back to her prize.

"General Armitage Hux of the First Order," she drew in a breath, but it sounded like a hiss. She pointed a long, sharp-nailed finger in his face. "Empire born; Arkanis I believe. Son of a Commandant." Hux did not shrink back or wince. He kept his cold, imposing air as he stared into the woman's large eyes. The accusing finger flicked, traveled down from pointing at his head, to his chin, lower then, to his shoulders.

Rose realized the woman was appraising him.

"Hm, the Starkiller in person," she muttered. "Seeing you here now, I must say… the holos did make you seem a bit more... _formidable_."

A muscle in Hux's jaw twitched at that.

The woman leaned in, a good few inches taller.

Hux's lip curled up in distaste as he looked up at her.

She smirked then, glancing at the Peacekeepers who had stayed behind. "Strip him."

Rose blanched. _"What?"_

The woman stepped back as a second soldier came forward. Hux pulled his shoulders up higher, nearly baring his teeth as the four remaining guards moved to descend upon him.

Rose began to step in to stop them, just as Poe made a noise of protest.

"Is that really how the New Republic wants to treat their prisoners?" Poe said in a high, disapproving voice, both eyebrows cocked up. He looked from the Peacekeepers back to the Councilwoman. "We'll be sure to mention conduct in our report. You know, for those who might want to _join_."

It was a weak play to make; the Resistance was barely a mere militia group compared to the authority of the New Republic.

Still, the woman held up her hand, and the Peacekeepers froze. She thought a moment, then let out a pensive hum as she looked around at the three Resistance members.

"Interesting," she muttered. Then she motioned at the soldiers in Hux's direction. "Search him, then." And to Rose, "Please step aside."

Hux gave Rose a brief look of warning.

Rose backed off; bottom lip caught between her teeth. She watched in horror as they yanked the greatcoat from Hux's shoulders, pinning his arms momentarily, before stripping it down and tossing the coat into a heap upon the ground.

The Peacekeeper then patted down Hux's bodyline rather grimaced, issuing a soft grunt, swaying on his feet, but he kept his gaze fixed on the horizon.

Tears were beginning to gather in Rose's eyes as she looked from the discarded greatcoat back to Hux, worry etched upon her face. She kept trying to get him to look at her again, but he was unreachable.

Her apprehension grew as one of the soldiers cuffed Hux's hands in front of him. His gloved fingers curled into fists.

"Excellent." The councilwoman smiled. "Well," she said to Poe, Finn, and Rose, "you do have our thanks. You may be on your way."

Rose jumped forward, heart in her throat, choking on unshed tears. "W-Wait!"

The council woman's gaze rounded on her. Rose felt a shudder run through her as the woman's wide, glassy eyes pinned her to the spot, but she steeled herself. "What about his trial? We're supposed to be able to speak on his behalf."

"Trial?" The woman looked confused. "For the lower ranking members, perhaps yes. For this man?" She pointed accusingly at Hux. Her eyes flicked to his stoic face.

"You are aware of what this man has done, are you not?" She asked Rose, her tone sharp.

Rose faltered. "I— yes, but I—"

"Armitage Hux," the council woman's air turned formal, her tone calm and ceremonial. "You have been found guilty in the kidnapping of children immeasurable by number, and indoctrinating them in the First Order's Storm Trooper Program."

Hux glowered as the tears in Rose's eyes began spilling down her cheeks.

"You are so too guilty in the designing, planning, and execution of Starkiller base, wherein the Hosnian system, consisting of five planets in total, were subsequently destroyed. Billions vaporized. You have additionally been found as a material accessory to the blockade of the Otomok System, resulting in widespread atrocities-"

Rose tried to hold back her sobs, but they bubbled past her clenched teeth no matter how hard she tried to keep them at bay.

"- and in the subsequent testing of military weaponry upon civilians, resulting in the destruction of Hays Minor."

Rose kept seeing her mother and her father and Paige. Dead. All of them, dead. Her planet cracked and blackened. And Armitage at the helm, a broken child and a broken man, who knew neither compassion nor a gentle word nor the touch of his mother. Not even her name.

The council woman narrowed her large eyes. "Do you deny these actions?"

Finally, Hux's gaze shifted down toward Rose, and their eyes locked.

She was looking at him like he had the entire galaxy under his boot and was cutting off its air. Mourning, almost. For him. She hated seeing him this way, his crimes laid out bare before her. The monster she always thought he was.

The councilwoman glared. _"General?"_

"You forgot one," Hux said sharply, attention turning back to the alien woman before him.

"Is that so?"

Something flashed in his eyes

"Patricide."

The breath stilled in Rose's chest.

The councilwoman, for a moment, was taken aback.

"P-Patricide?"

"And he deserved it," Hux growled, teeth clenched, a fire suddenly lit and awake inside him. "Out of everything I've done there is not a day l don't relish the moment that man fell apart to atoms. I want that on record."

The councilwoman drew herself up once more, eyeing him as if he were now just a bit more formidable. With a challenging air, she jotted down his request in her notes.

"And the other charges. Do you deny them?"

He swallowed. "No."

"You see?" She said, as if sharing something precious. "General Hux's death warrant has already been signed by his own actions. Ratified by the entire council this morning."

"No!" Rose choked on her own words, through her tears and her anguish. "He's done terrible things in the past but he's grown. He's lived his entire life in a world without kindness, without a home, without hope. You hold all the cards now; you can at least give him a fair trial. That would be justice," Rose said through teeth-clenching grief.

Hux watched her, rewriting the universe in her image as she spoke.

The councilwoman too regarded her for a very long time. It made Rose feel undignified, there as she stood crying, small compared to Hux and even smaller compared to the spindly woman staring her down.

"The council has already signed the declaration. There will be no trial." At Rose's protests, the councilwoman held up her hand. "But you may speak for him tomorrow during sentencing. To ease his conscience, if you so wish." And then she turned away.

Rose bolted forward, unwilling to let _that_ be the final word, but a Peacekeeper's armored arm knocked her sideways. She stumbled, falling into Finn and Poe, who had come up behind her. They caught her well enough, but the sight of the soldier's connecting blow made Hux's expression turn murderous.

 _"Rose!"_ He snarled, and made a start, but one of the Peacekeepers pressed a button upon his gauntlet.

The stun cuffs sizzled to life.

Rose gasped, reeling. "Hux!"

She watched, in horror, at the seizing expression of agony that screwed up his face. The electricity ripped through him, forcing him stiffly to the ground.

Hux let out a sharp, high-pitched breath of pain as the burning feeling slowly faded and his jaw finally unclenched. As the world came back to him, he found himself swaying on his knees, unable to speak.

"Let's be off, General," the councilwoman said, clearly satisfied.

A Peacekeeper came up behind him, gripping Hux by the back of his shirt. At the pull, Hux rose to trembling legs, still twitching from electric impulse. They pushed him forward, and Hux stumbled, almost falling before being caught by the collar and righted once again. He coughed as the fabric choked against his windpipe.

 _"Hells,"_ he ground out, hoarse.

Disentangling herself from Finn and Poe, Rose got to her feet.

"You can't do this!"

Poe was able to grab hold of her before she bolted, his arm bracing around her chest to pull her back.

"Let go of me!" She struggled against Poe's arm, trying to throw him off. "Poe! Let go!" Her panic spiked as Hux was slowly led away on unsteady feet, looking more than a little stunned.

Her friend's voice was close in her ear. "Hey, cool it, alright? I know, I know, but we have to play the long game. We'll approach the council tomorrow. Right now we can't—"

But she was desperate.

"Hux!"

She saw him try and turn his head back to look at her, but a Peacekeeper jabbed him in the shoulder blades with the butt of his blaster. Even with the distance now between them, she could hear his grunt of pain.

No.

"They can't—they _can't!"_

Panic.

"Oh god. Hux!"

Fear.

_"Armitage!"_

He was getting further and further away.

"I love you!"

The words ripped from her chest as she called out to him, her voice breaking, body sagging forward against Poe's arm. He had to slide with her to the ground as her legs gave out.

Across the landing pad, she saw Hux pause, even as the Peacekeepers pushed him onward.

He'd heard her. She knew he did. He had to have. But she could not see his face.

Oh, she needed him to look back. Just once. Just so she could see. Was he giving her one of his small, treasured, genuine smiles that would tell her he loved her too?

"Please, please, please," she chanted into the wind, voice carried aloft.

I love you.

He was pushed into the second military transport. Rose watched him stumble into the seats on the far side of the tiny detainment vehicle, the door closing swiftly behind him before she got a glimpse of his face.

Wind whistled along the docked spacecraft as a howl nestled deep in Rose's chest. She slumped against the ground. No, not the wind. The sound was coming from her.

Poe's arm finally released her as the military transport rumbled away.

Falling apart. It was all falling apart.

She shook her head in disbelief as she held herself.

Her eyes fell on the pile of Hux's greatcoat. With a desperate noise Rose grabbed at it, dragging it towards her, the fabric balled up in her arms. Head bowed, she breathed in his scent, her mind racing.

No, it couldn't end like this.

"Damn it," Poe muttered quietly, getting to his feet and dusting off his pants. "Now what?"

Finn looked between his two comrades. "It's not over yet."

Rose sniffed, moaning into the lining of Hux's First Order jacket.

"You heard her, Rose," Finn said. "They'll still give us an audience with the council."

"Yeah?!" Rose said angrily, even as she hiccupped back the sobs in her throat. "And what'll that do? You heard her! He's already been condemned," she spat, her grief turning bitter.

Poe put his hands on his hips, thinking quietly. "We need backup. It's clear they won't listen to Resistance members. We're just rebels with blasters to them."

Rose's heart pounded in her ears, her body freezing where she was hunched over.

He was right.

The four of them; they held no significance, no weight.

They couldn’t persuade the Council.

But... maybe there was someone who still could.

A Jedi.

Rose leapt to her feet, all the blood rushing from her head, making her groan and sway.

“Hey,” Finn came forward, offering her a hand. “Don’t stand up so fast. Take it easy. What is it?”

“Need the comms,” she said, gathering up all the anguish inside of her and pushing it into determination. She moved past Finn, back towards the Falcon. Chewy watched her as she passed, warbling a low note of comfort and support.

As she stalked up the ship’s gangplank, Rose unfurled the greatcoat around her shoulders, letting the weight of it provide a warm, pressing comfort. It smelled like him; like suede and amber. Spicy like clove but still subtly sweet. It made a lump rise in the back of her throat.

Hadn’t she just been fantasizing about him not a few days prior? Yearning over the thought of her legs wrapped around all the sharp angles of him? She’d been thrumming with it. Now it seemed all so far away; mere daydreams.

In the Falcon’s cockpit, she fumbled with the communications controls, punching in the appropriate station markers as she wiped furiously at the tears still running down her cheeks.

“Please be there,” Rose chanted. She hadn’t burned with pain like this since she’d lost Paige. “Please pick up.”

The line popped and buzzed with static.

And then—

A woman’s voice, laced with concern. _“Rose?”_

Rose let out a choking breath of relief. “Rey!”

_“What’s happening? I felt something... Are you alright?”_

“Rey.” Rose’s legs buckled; she had to collapse into the pilot’s seat before she tumbled to the floor. “Rey, you need to come to Lira. _Now_.”

* * *

Alone in the cramped transport, Hux sagged against the row of seating, the military vehicle gliding along towards its final destination. Electricity still twitched through him, making the muscles in his legs bounce, but he hardly felt it.

_I love you._

She'd called out those words to him, even after all his charges had been read aloud and she'd been made to picture the carnage of it all over again. It had been laid out before her, like so many dead bodies he'd left in the entire wake of his life and—

_I love you._

He didn't deserve it. Even before Rose, before he knew what it meant to want someone with the whole of his heart like he wanted her, he knew his actions, the choices he'd made, precluded him from love.

But she'd refused. Even when he'd pushed her away and cursed her compassion she'd held on tight, weathering the storm of him, continuing to unbend him with her hopeful light.

He should have taken her.

Back when he had the chance, that one night; to feel her move against him, surround him with the entirety of her tender heart.

Damn his weaknesses; his _fear._

And—

That's what set his whole existence into motion, wasn't it? Fear.

His father's fear, and his mother's, the Empire's, the Order's, his own. Rage built upon inadequacies built upon sweet-sharp power and terrible pain.

Now, he feared, he'd lost Rose permanently because of it. Before he even knew he had her.

Hux cursed himself, because he couldn't even acknowledge that the things he'd done were _wrong_. Fruitless, maybe. A waste. He could concede that at least. Pointless.

How could Rose have given him her heart?

He was a terrible person. Didn't she understand that?

"Get out," barked a cold voice, and Hux lifted his head to see a Peacekeeper standing outside the now open door of the transport.

Hux hadn't realized they'd even come to a stop.

Sliding his impassive mask back into place, he bent over to exit out of the vehicle, arms still restrained in front of him.

They were in a large unloading station; a room made of duracrete large enough for vehicles to turn around in. Two Peacekeepers stood guarding the entrance to the main cells, next to an enclosed guard station and a row of electronic body scanners.

It was relatively quiet. And cold.

They were underground, Hux realized, as he cataloged his surroundings.

Interesting.

A small number of soldiers, too. Perhaps ten he'd seen so far, give or take a rounding error; he still could not see their faces.

All he'd witnessed so far hinted that this was likely a smaller, military prison. Meaning the New Republican Council wasn't focused on housing simple criminals.

They held high-value targets only, Hux would have to guess. Rogue bounty hunters; First Order brass.

"Look alive, Imperial bastard," a Peacekeeper gruffed at him, shoving him forward.

Hux made a face, a flickering gesture of distaste. _Imperial._

Curiously, with the soldier's other barb, _bastard,_ he'd felt the sting of it less keenly than he'd expected. A dull twinge of annoyance, rather than blistering anger. It both elated and terrified him.

Was he simply coming to accept it now? Or was it something else?

To his surprise, Hux realized he hadn't thought of Brendol in quite some days.

He still bristled at the soldier's taunts, perhaps out of principle, but let the feeling pass through him, allowing them to march him up to central processing.

At the top of the wide, duracrete steps, they passed two Peacekeeper guards standing on either side of the tall, metallic scanner. Ready to wave him though was a guard, safely locked away in a booth of transparisteel and duracrete. One of the Peacekeepers slid through the electronic turnstiles to wait for him on the other side.

During the transfer, there was a moment, an opening, a blaster too close to his cuffed hands as a Peacekeeper strode around him. A thrill went through him at the sight of it, at the calculation he made, whip-quick.

It was a chance. It would be his only chance.

He could fight them until they beat him dead. Electrocuted him to death. Or he could escape. The latter outcome had the lowest probability of success, but he let the idea of it swell momentarily before he let it go.

He could have made the attempt, but it would hurt Rose.

She wanted to try for him with the Council. She deserved that chance, even if he thought it was foolish. He couldn't take that last spark of hope away from her. He simply didn't have it in him.

The Peacekeeper on duty waved him through, and Hux marched stoically forward, pausing in the center of the machine as a lightband swung around him, bouncing electromagnetic waves off his person to provide an image for the Council's search and record.

Through the viewport into the security booth, Hux was sure to keep an unimpressed sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth.

On the other side of the checkpoint there was a small waiting room with a duracrete table and more Peacekeepers awaited him.

Hux glanced at the table, and at the clinical-looking auto injector resting upon a metal tray.

Everything looked relatively _new;_ bright and sterile. A cold comfort, but he'd take it, even for a prison.

It was obvious that the New Republic hadn't been on-planet very long, at least not in this capacity. Perhaps it had been a secret base until Starkiller.

They removed his jacket first of all. Hux clenched his teeth tight as one of the peacekeepers removed the buckle of his belt with no gentle hand.

"Should have shot him on sight," said a voice over his shoulder; one of the soldiers. "He doesn't deserve the air he's breathing after what he's done."

"Yeah," another peacekeeper voiced as they tossed his clothing into a plastoid bin on the floor. The man sounded regretful.

Ah, direct orders then. He was being kept alive for a reason.

A quick death would be generous, after all, but Hux did not assume the Council's benevolence extended to the likes of him. They'd sentence him in private, but he was certain they'd parade him around plenty before they were done with him.

A reedy young soldier piped up from a station by the entrance. "We could call it an accident. Maybe one of our blasters misfired." The man shrugged. "What do you think of that, Starkiller? Huh?"

Hux leveled his gaze at the man, but kept his expression as neutral as possible, save for the venom in his gaze.

Children and their threats. Hux would bet the young man had never even killed.

Well, they could taunt him all they wanted, but silence was his strength.

Even so, once reduced to his standard-issue three-quarters length black undershirt and pants, Hux could not suppress a shiver at the drastic temperature change.

Uncuffed from the confiscation of his outer layer, they moved for his gloves, but Hux removed them promptly before they had a chance to, handing them over as his final piece of freedom.

"Empire brat," one of the Peacekeepers grumbled, snatching the gloves from him with little care.

Before they could shackle him once again, Hux pushed his hair back into place; any of the bits that had fallen forward since the tarmac.

Even if they were going to throw him into a cell, he would keep his dignity. Not all the strands were cooperating, and reminded him of his time at the Resistance base, during his first few weeks as their prisoner.

The thought conjured Rose's face in his mind. Her soft, warm smile. He could feel her fingertips fluffing the fringe at the back of his neck.

As the cold bite of the stun cuffs clicked around his wrists, Hux let out a pained breath that had nothing to do with the shackles. He flexed his now bare fingers, trying to remember how she'd felt under his touch.

She'd been worth it. Even if the New Republic subverted all his expectations and shot him dead right there, the time he'd spent with her… It was a gift he did not deserve, but he was thankful for it all the same.

Unexpected emotion welled in the back of his throat, but Hux promptly pushed the memory of her away. He nestled the thought of her next to his heart, protected beneath the cold-blooded General he had to be.

Weakness was not an option, not now, no matter how sweet it felt to surrender to her.

They left him his boots, thankfully, but only after a thorough search, after which they took a retina scan and his fingerprints. Hux was sure they took his picture too; probably caught by the security feed.

When one of the on-duty peacekeepers pressed the medical gun against his skin, discharging a small, info-laden microchip into the flesh of his forearm, Hux grunted in pain, grimacing with a flash of clenched teeth.

Now he was truly at their mercy.

"Catalogued and numbered," one of the guards said, voice rife with satisfaction. "Just like your precious slave stormtroopers. Fitting, innit?" The man grinned, showing slightly yellowed teeth.

A muscle under Hux's eye twitched.

"Aw, that's too bad," the man continued. "Looks like he's really committed to giving us the silent treatment, eh boys?" There was a smattering of dark laughter. "Didn't they teach you manners on whatever backwater planet you spawned from?"

Hux stood up a bit straighter. "I was unaware that my making conversation was necessary for you to do your job. Apparently, I was mistaken."

The man's grin widened. Hux glowered.

"Come on, Thif," the man said, one of the younger Peacekeepers snapping to attention at the sound of his name. "Unlock the door. Let's introduce this bastard to his new home."

The older Peacekeeper took hold of Hux's arm, steering him roughly towards the durasteel door at the other end of the room.

"Everyone here is dying to make you eat plasma," the man hissed, sounding rather pleased.

"Delightful," Hux allowed through tightly-pressed lips.

At the younger Peacekeeper's prompting, the door to the cell block slid open with a pneumatic hiss, and they entered into a very long hallway.

"Not me," the man went on as the reinforced door closed behind them, "I ain't rushing to stick a barrel down your throat."

A row of cells on either side extended out before them in the almost overly-bright hallway. Perhaps a hundred cells, if Hux was making an estimate, with thick durasteel bars and doubly-encrypted electronic keypads.

"You might have wiped out my whole family; a lot of these men and women's families, too, but I don't want you dead," the man said. "I want you alive and kicking for as long as possible. Because one day, the Council's gonna forget all about you down here," his voice changed, dripping with violence, "and then you'll really be ours."

Hux set his jaw as he was marched down the corridor, refusing to look either way, even as some of the compound's current occupants began to notice his presence and recognize his face.

Mutters and murmurings followed them as they passed; the low voices the formerly First Order.

_"Is that..?"_

_"Armitage Hux?"_

_"Impossible."_

_"Thought the General was dead."_

_"Spy."_

_"Traitor."_

And then a cry went up, uncouth and jeering, no doubt from one of the more Republican detainees.

_"It's Hugs!"_

There was a smattering of jeers and laughter then.

Hux ground his jaw at the seemingly pervasive nickname.

Dameron, that son of a bitch.

Despite his near-shaking with concentration, Hux couldn't stop the embarrassed flush from creeping up his neck. With cruel jubilance, some of the inmates had started banging on their bars. The Peacekeeper chuckled, which only made the shame twist deeper.

Up ahead, one of the cell doors stood open, durasteel jaws waiting to swallow him whole.

"Here we are," the Peacekeeper said as they both slowed to a stop, voice calm despite the uproar they had made while walking down the hall. "Make yourself at home."

The man shoved Hux between the shoulder blades, forcing him into his cell, even as Hux maintained as straight a spine as possible.

The door swung closed with an electronic clicking sound behind him, the light from the hallway illuminated the room. Sparse; four walls, a hard metal bed, and a drain in the floor.

Quaint.

"Enjoy your stay, you mass-murdering son of a bitch," the Peacekeeper spat, before his footfalls faded into the din. "Alright you lot!" He hollered into the noise of the other prisoners, voice fading as he walked back down the hall. "Quiet down!"

Well, all that was left for him to do now was to wait.

Hux moved to recline against durasteel cot. It reminded him of the cold, stone-slab bunk he'd been subjected to at the Resistance base.

Except here there'd be no one to bring him ration bars or sneak him thermoses of tea. No one quite so beautiful, anyway.

* * *

For the rest of the day, Rose didn't move from her cramped position as lookout in the pilot's chair. Finn and Poe did not come in to check on her, and for that she was actually quite thankful. She needed to be alone.

Wrapped in Hux's greatcoat and exhausted beyond words, she kept her eyes on the radar screen and drifted fitfully in and out of wearied sleep.

Many hours later, as the light from beyond the cockpit dimmed with nightfall, and as Rose dozed, dried tears streaking her face, a figure walked up the ramp into the Falcon's hallway.

Blearily, Rose shifted at the sound, nuzzling at the coat around her, mumbling in her sleep.

"Oh, Rose…" Rey's soft voice said, like her heart was breaking. "We should move her to a bunk. Can you…?"

As she was lifted from the chair by an unknown force, Rose was swaddled in Hux's scent and warm fabric. She felt almost weightless, like she was being carried aloft by pure starlight. It radiated calm and peace, infusing her with a bit of courage.

"Thank you, Ben," Rey said, as Rose felt the cool, hard bunk beneath her.

"Mmh?" Rose shifted, rubbing at her face, peering bleary-eyed to see Rey standing beside her cot. "Rey?"

The woman broke into a small, sad smile. "Hey…"

Rose frowned, looking around the room.

"S-someone else there too?"

"Shh, no, it's just me," Rey said, smoothing out Rose's hair. "Relax. You should sleep."

"But Hux is—" Rose tried to sit up, but Rey pushed her gently down.

"I know, but you need to rest. I already spoke with Finn and Poe; they know I'm here." Rey smiled in the dark, tucking Rose into the greatcoat like she was a child and the coat were her blanket. "I'm coming with you tomorrow. To the council. It'll be all four of us."

But Rose needed to make Rey understand. "Hux, he's— You don't know how he's—"

"Trust me," Rey leaned down, whispering breathlessly to the other woman, "I know better than most." She pulled back, smiling, smoothing the hair off of Rose's forehead. "But _you_ need to get your rest. Regain your strength, so you can fight for him tomorrow."

That warmth, that starlight, seemed to settle back over her, like a warm hand upon her forehead, soothing her to slumber. And she was so bone-wearily tired. Rose nodded sleepily, drifting off there upon the bunk, wrapping herself tighter in Hux's greatcoat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bear lol Thanks to Brit for her on-point editing skills, and for listening to me whine about stupid building layouts. Brit is celebrating the finale of her gingerrose fic "Part of Your Pas de Deux." It's a beautiful, sensual story, and I highly recommend it!
> 
> Also, I have to call out Ксения Брагинская on ficbook who remarked that they, "think that the author is also in love with the Armitage," and like, how dare you lol How do you know me so well? I guess it's pretty obvious, isn't it? XD LOL


	15. Chapter 15

Rose was awake before the rest of them. For a moment, she was disoriented, unsure of why she felt so upended, so anxious, but then the memory of what was happening, what had happened, settled into her like a rattling worry in her chest. All of a sudden, she was wide awake at once.

Slipping off her cot, she took the greatcoat with her, wrapping it around herself like a robe in the dark.

Rey was asleep on the cot adjacent to hers in the galley, snoring softly.

Having her back was a comfort in and of itself. Rose had always thought Rey was so powerful, so daringly optimistic. She’d mailed herself to the First Order and had escaped with her life and a man’s heart in her hands. A true force of nature.

Still, she slept like the dead; Rey didn’t wake when Rose prepped hot water for her instant caf, and kept on snoring still as Rose let herself out into the main hall of the ship.

Padding her way to the cockpit, Rose peered down the hallway. Poe was asleep, wrapped in a blanket, body slung across the curved sofa beside the dejarik table. Finn snored in the bunk above, in the little alcove between the inner part of the ship and the freight doors. Chewy must have taken the relief pilot’s bunk in the back.

Sipping her caf and trying to calm her jumping nerves, Rose pulled her feet up onto the pilot’s chair, slinging Hux’s coat over her legs to wrap herself tight. Through the old and slightly dusty viewport, she watched the blue-grey fog begin to burn off as the morning dawned, revealing more and more of the Liran landscape; clover and cloud stretching on until the mountains in the distance, vaulting high into the remaining clouds.

Rose tried to steel herself, running through what the day would bring, calculating her choices. Every word, every detail, changing the equation. Dozens of permutations. Which outcome would win out? She knew what she hoped for. 

Hux, free from a death sentence, and Rose wouldn’t waste any more time after that.

She loved him.

She wanted him.

She wanted…

She wanted to _be_ with him. To wake up every day and trade sly, playful barbs over engine schematics. She wanted him to hand her the right tool without even having to ask.

She wanted his heart all for herself, and she was willing to fight for it. It was a selfish, covetous feeling usually so foreign to her, but not in this. 

There was, admittedly, a part of her that still warred within herself. He’d taken the lives of so many people, there was no denying that, but he’d known nothing of kindness, of mercy, and she could see the flickers of good in him; good he could do if only given the chance.

Too soon, her caf had chilled, and the entire ship rustled awake, raring to go. Rose slipped back into the galley to finish getting ready, and all gathered at the bottom of the Falcon’s ramp in sporadic numbers, ready to head out.

Rose surveyed the view before her. Adjoined to their landing pad was the New Republican military base with its stark ancillary buildings and barracks, neat little two-level buildings with windows facing the wider, breathtaking scenery. 

Beyond the adjacent town of Oran lay those untamed, dense-looking forests they’d seen upon entry, and further away, those scraggly, snow-tipped mountains. The wild part of her heart had already been taken in by the mossy, emerald landscape; it’s begging for exploration.

The little town woke around them: shops began to push out their collapsible overhangs and the smell of fresh bread and flowery scents wafted out of newly-opened windows.

The hodgepodge of buildings was fascinating to see. Some of the oldest structures were made of hewn stone and thick mortar by the earlier colonists, but as the New Republic had put down roots, more synthetic building materials had been used. It seemed the town of Oran was a quaint mesh of old and new, all strung together by overhead lighting, which zigzagged down the small, cobblestone streets.

Rose wished she could have enjoyed the scenery a bit more; usually she would have been beside herself with wonder, peering into the shops and taverns, but she was unable to take in the true beauty of their surroundings, what with the tightly-coiled bundle of worry rooted deep in the pit of her stomach. It made her nauseous, the breakfast of ration bars churning uncomfortably in her stomach, even as she told herself to stay strong.

“Are you sure we’re going the right way?” Finn tugged at Poe’s jacket, as the other man had ground to a halt outside a shop with dried, cured meats hanging behind a wide window.

“The Council building should be up ahead,” Rey explained, “in the town square.”

Rose took a side-long glance at the other woman, drawing strength from the Jedi’s proximity. Rey still had her staff, although her clothes had changed a little since Rose had seen her last, and her hair was down again.

She seemed serene. Well, maybe not quite that placid, but Rose did feel as if Rey’s wild, chaotic nature had been tempered a degree or two. Rose wasn’t sure why she got that impression; it could have been the light, easy smile gracing the woman’s face.

"Are you okay?” Rey must have caught her staring.

Rose nodded mutely, her expression pinched, and she shook her head.

“I… I don’t know what’s going to happen… part of me wants to believe the New Republic will be merciful, end the cycle of violence this war has created, but the other part…”

It would be so easy for the Council to err on the side of vengeance.

“Don’t lose hope, Rose,” Rey took Rose’s hand, squeezing. “Leia would be so proud of you. I know I am.”

Rose laughed, a little self-pityingly.

“What, for falling in love with a man like Hux?” Even when she said it, even as the thought of loving him filled her with an incandescent joy, there was still that darkness, that guilt, curling around the edges.

Rey swung their joined hands a bit as they walked. “For believing in something, even after everything you’ve been through, yeah.”

She chuckled then, nodding her chin forward. “Look at them.”

Finn and Poe kept on ahead of them, shoulder to shoulder, Poe’s hand alighting on the other man’s back or arm every time he wanted to point out something sizzling on a street cart.

Rose watched as the back of their hands brushed and smiled warmly at the sight. “When this is finished, you’ll have to tell me all about where you’ve been. Did you ever find Ben?”

Rey blushed at that. “He’s with me even now.”

“Oh!” Rose was surprised, but pleased. That’s wonderful!”

“He comes and goes,” Rey clarified. “Actually... If he tries very hard, I can see him, touch him, but he’s gone for a long time after that. I think he has to rebuild his strength. It’s odd, but… even like this I think he’s happier. For now, anyway. He’s very stubborn.”

Rey gave her a small smile. “I think that’s why Ben and General Hux always butted heads so often.”

“Did you ask him? About Hux?” Rose bit the inside of her lip.

Rey grew a little pensive. “It’s not his favorite subject, but... I think he feels bad about what he’s done.”

Rose sighed, troubled. “That’s more than I can say for Hux sometimes.”

“Everyone’s healing is different.”

Rose nodded in accent.

Well, what Rey said was true, but it certainly would be easier if Hux felt sorry _now_. His unwillingness to denounce all he’d done gnawed at her nerves, pulling her towards dread. 

Rose’s free hand clasped at her pendant, drawing on any hope she had as they turned the last corner and into the central town square.

“Wow,” Rey’s hand slid away from their shared grasp as the woman’s face took on a wondrous, childlike quality.

“Yeah,” Rose agreed. “This place is beautiful…”

Shops with apartments above, ringed the center square, in the middle of which stood a little fountain, vendors beginning to set up shop here and there. Some of the hover carts were quite elaborate; it looked like a few had even traveled from outside the town and the surrounding forests and foothills.

It was obvious which building was the municipal one, for it was by far the newest, most advanced structure, wide with steps leading up to an elaborately arched entry, flanked by a security detail.

Rose took a deep breath as they gathered at the bottom of the steps.

“You guys don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to,” she said to Poe and Finn, especially to Poe. “I know how you feel about Hux. I won’t hold it against you.”

Finn frowned, his brow furrowed, but Poe spoke first.

“You’re right,” he said, folding his arms and planting his hip. “It’s no secret that he’s not my favorite person. Frankly I’m even _against_ what the New Republic is trying to do here. Not the execution bit,” he added sharply, as Rey opened her mouth to tell him off, looking furious. 

“Killing him won’t solve anything; they’re just out for blood. It would be better if he was forced to live with the consequences of his actions. He’s not the only one of us who’s taken a life…,” Poe trailed off and glowered out across the square, a slightly haunted look flickering across his features.

Rose felt her heart constrict. Paige’s death wasn’t his fault, her sister would have sacrificed herself for the Resistance at a moment’s notice and done so gladly, but that didn’t mean that Poe didn’t feel guilty.

She wanted to tell him this, but held her tongue. Perhaps they could talk at a better time.

“We’re here for you,” Finn said, nodding resolutely. “And that’s something we don’t need the Force for, no matter what happens in there.” He shared a smile with Rey.

“And,” he added, as they ascended the steps, “for some reason you seem to like him.”

He wrinkled his nose at the two women. “The both of you. Seriously questionable taste.”

“Oi, not all of us can nab us a war-hero pilot,” Rey needled, jabbing him playfully in the shoulder with her staff. Poe had the decency to look a little bit embarrassed, failing to keep his otherwise pleased expression in check.

The Peacekeepers did not stop them as they entered the tall building through its wide, double-doored vestibule, nor as they moved down a narrow foyer and into a central rotunda, an informal lobby which various hallways and doors spoked out from.

Sitting there upon one of the overly large, velvety poufs, under the rotundas’ transparisteel dome, was the lanky alien Councilwoman.

“Ah, so you did come,” she said, standing slowly, looking a bit like an unfurling spider as she did so. She watched Rose with keen, wide eyes. “I had a feeling you would not give up so easily.” 

Rose nodded, her expression determined. “That’s right.”

The Councilwoman shook her head slightly. “I am not your enemy, child.”

“No,” Rose agreed, voice careful. “But you are the one we have to convince.”

“Not just myself,” the woman swept her arm out, indicating that they should follow her to the large open doors on the other side of the rotunda and into their meeting hall. “You see, in the past you would have taken your appeal up with the Chancellor, separate from the Galactic Senate and the Republican Tribunal. However, and I’m sure you’ll forgive us, but after Hosnian Prime was _destroyed_ by General Hux, there are not enough of us to fill up one branch, let alone three.”

Rose swallowed hard as they entered into the Council’s meeting hall, revealing a raised dais along the back wall, behind which sat five high-backed chairs at a table. The other Council Members had already arrived: two were obviously human, an older man and woman, and two others were not, one of the species Mon Calamari, the other a wizened looking Caphex.

Five. That was it. Just five.

Across from the curved dais were little pew-like rows of seating. Councilwoman Zeena seemed to guide them toward it, pausing and turning slowly on them, addressing Poe/the other council people.

“General Poe Dameron of the Resistance,” Councilwoman Zeena announced as they all crowded into the room.

“And his subordinates,” she continued. “General Finn, and Lieutenant General Rose Tico, and…”

A slightly puzzled look came over the woman’s face as she turned back around, leveling her wide-eyes on Rey. “My apologies. I do not believe we have met. You are?”

“Rey. Just Rey. I… I trained with Master Skywalker. Sort of,” she added wryly, eyes darting away.

The council alighted with a buzz.

“A Jedi?” One of them asked breathlessly.

Rey straightened up, holding herself with thrown-back shoulders as she gripped her staff.

“Surprising,” Councilwoman Zeena muttered.

“I would have you all sit,” she said, long fingers pointing towards the public seating, “while we begin our meeting.”

* * *

Hux tried to get some sleep that night, but with the overhead lights in the cell block’s hallway kept on throughout the night, casting thin beams of light through the thick bars of the cell, it was near impossible.

He dozed fitfully and without relief. Eventually, many hours later, the door to Hux’s cell swung open, and there was the same older Peacekeeper, blaster in his hand.

“Council wants to see you,” the man grumbled.

“Whatever is the point of that?” Hux countered from his seated position on his metal pallet. “I was under the impression that the Republic, in all their infinite wisdom, had already decided on my guilt.”

“Guilt yes, but punishment?” The Peacekeeper grinned toothily. “I hope it’s a nice long sentence. Now, get up.”

He motioned with his blaster.

Hux stood, lip curling slightly, stepping out into the bright hallway.

They marched him down the opposite direction he had first entered, to a turbolift at the back wall, where another guard stood silently.

Hux narrowed his eyes, trying to orient himself. The underground cell block must have been connected to one of the government buildings on the surface.

The turbolift ride started as a silent one, Hux flanked on either side by a peacekeeper guard.

They’d kept him shackled for the duration of his stay so far, even now in the turbolift, cramped as it was.

Did they really think him foolish enough to try and escape? It was almost insulting.

Such perceived disrespect did not improve his mood, coupled with the fact that he was exhausted from lack of sleep.

The younger of the two guards made a noise of distaste, reading something on the curved datapad along his wrist cuff.

“Looks like your friends got off easy,” the man muttered darkly.

For a moment, Hux was unaware that he was being spoken to.

“Pardon?”

“Your Captain and Lieutenant,” the older Peacekeeper grumbled, checking his own data feed. “The Council struck a deal with ‘em.”

“They should execute everyone one of those monsters,” the young guard spat. “Seems foolish to allow them even an ounce of clemency.”

The older man made a noise of dissent in the back of his throat. “If they can fight for the Order they can fight for the New Republic, I say. Waste of perfectly warm bodies if we killed ‘em all.”

Hux swallowed.

The New Republic had conscripted even the highest-ranking Officers in lieu of corporal punishment.

That was it then, they only wanted him. He’d be the one they’d make an example of; satisfy those all around the galaxy calling for his head.

The lift slowed to a stop after a surprisingly lengthy ride. Hux’s ears had popped on their way up.

So, they’d been deep below the surface of the planet, had they? The kind of place so tucked away from the rest of the galaxy, whatever was put down there was bound to be forgotten eventually.

“Look alive, General.” The old Peacekeeper grabbed hold of Hux’s upper arm, half pushing, half pulling him out of the turbolifts and into a hallway.

A municipal building. Hux would recognize its kind anywhere; stark, but richly decorated.

Must have been where the New Republic was holding court.

The sunlight streaming in from the ceiling did little to improve Hux’s tension headache, but—

“Hux!”

He looked up sharply as he was guided through open double doors, gaze zeroing in on the woman who had said his name.

Rose.

She was standing along one of the rows of bench seating, along with Finn, Poe, and—

Hux nearly did a doubletake.

The scavenger?

What the hell was she doing here?

“Ah,” the Councilwoman said, standing from her chair, “the devil himself. Please,” she made a motion, “do come stand before us. We have just finished with introductions.”

Hux gave her a carefully controlled look of vague dislike, keeping his posture as ridged as possible as he took the few steps to place himself before the dais. He caught Rose’s eye before he turned his back.

Her brows were furrowed in worry, biting at her lip, looking like she wanted to run to him.

He tried to stay her recklessness with a steady gaze, but the ice in his heart melted as soon as their eyes met. He couldn’t keep all the longing from his expression, no matter how hard he tried.

Hux always considered himself patient; a survivor, but practical, too. There was no path that he could see where he’d escape what reckoning the New Republic was about to bring down upon him. And yet, for a moment, he wished he could take Rose’s hand and just walk away, from all of it.

It was a childish thought, foolishly hopeful, a knee-jerk reaction he thought he’d strangled away a very long time ago.

But seeing her, feeling the need for her, welled back up inside him until he tore his eyes away, unable to hold her gaze before he broke any more of his composure.

Rose stored that little look of his deep inside her heart. Nothing would make her forget it, no matter what happened. Nothing.

“General Hux,” Councilwoman Zeema began, her eyes glittering. “it is good to see you again. Although, you do not look quite so well-rested as you appeared yesterday.”

“Not for lack of trying,” he drawled out, gaze darting around the five members of the Council, noting each one in turn and how they were all glaring at him.

The human male on the Council cleared his throat. “If I may speak, Councilwoman Zeena.”

The alien woman nodded slowly with her elongated neck. “You may, Councilman Arbo. The floor is open to all members who wish to make a statement.”

“We have already ratified our judgement against you, General Hux,” the man said, scrolling through a data pad as he spoke. “All that is left is to pass down our sentencing. I believe my suggestion was execution by firing squad, was it not?” The man asked the rest of the council.

Rose clenched her fists, rage gathering in the upward pull of her shoulders.

The human woman on the Council held up her hand. “Before we move to a vote on _method,_ we have been informed that there are those who wish to make statements on the General’s behalf.”

“Yes, a truly troubling thing,” the Mon Calamari carped, cutting in, “to see ranking members of the Resistance, war heroes, among those who would patron such evil.”

“Hey, hey, hey, let’s not be hasty here, okay?” Poe’s voice cut through the Council’s chatter.

“Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not _championing_ Hux,” he huffed with an incredulous laugh. “I’m only here to report on what… ah… good? Deeds? He’s done?”

Finn rolled his eyes. “Way to sell it.”

“I’m _trying_ ,” Poe countered, exasperated.

Hux closed his eyes, trying not to sigh.

“Good deeds, you say,” the wizened Caphex mused, voice like the rustling of leaves. “Enlighten us.”

Poe put his hands on his hips. “Yeah, well… Hux gave the Resistance coordinates to the First Order’s weapons factories and stockpiles. We were able to lead a number of missions to _eliminate_ those targets. Without the insider information Hux provided, remnants of the First Order would still have access to shipyards and munitions depots.”

“General Dameron,” Councilwoman Zeena said slowly, “General Hux is responsible for killing a number of your comrades. You do not feel anger over this?”

“Of course I’m angry,” Poe said sharply, voice slightly strangled with emotion. “We were at war, and the First Order decided to try and slaughter its way to power, but… the war is over.” 

He took a sharp breath before continuing. “The killing needs to stop. We don’t prove we’re better than them by killing them.”

There was a muttering around the Council.

Hux flexed his hands inside his cuffs, hearing Dameron’s words from over his shoulder.

Yes, it was war. Just killing. Nothing personal.

Wasn’t it?

“Not only that,” Finn added, “but he helped plan our most recent mission. He helped destroy the last Dreadnought, _and_ he put his life on the line for those cadets. Just _kids.”_ Finn paused, and took a deep breath.

The man’s words conjured a strange memory in Hux’s mind. Comforting a child on some transport. Phasma had been there.

_I was once very little and took a ride on a ship like this, and now look how big I am._

“This man brainwashed you,” the man called Arbo exclaimed, incredulous. “He orchestrated the systematic slaughter of thousands of men and women just like yourself.” He looked at Finn, “and yet you call for a stay in execution?”

Finn crossed his arms. “Look, he’s the reason I was taken away from my family. He’s the reason I became a stormtrooper; a slave to the First Order. But killing Hux won’t bring my family back to me.”

Finn gave Rose a side-long glance, smiling slightly. “I just want others to have the chance at something I never did.”

A fluttering in Rose’s breast nearly knocked the wind out of her.

“Finn,” she said softly, expression breaking.

The other man took her hand, squeezing with a small nod.

The Mon Calamari spluttered. “Surely _one_ former Stormtrooper cannot speak for the entirety!”

Councilwoman Zeena blinked her long, billowy lashes in Finn’s direction. “It cannot be ignored that you have killed Stormtroopers yourself, yes?”

Finn shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I have, but I don’t feel good about it.”

“Ahha,” Zeena held up an elongated finger, stilling the very air in the room. “Guilt. Tell me, General Hux, what guilt have you for the lives you have taken?”

Rose’s heart froze.

No, she thought desperately. Don’t ask him that, please. Over time he could come to understand, to mourn, to grieve, for the lives he’d taken, but not now. Not so soon. He needed _time._

Hux looked defiantly up at the Council, jaw working.

The Councilwoman splayed her hand, palm to the heavens. “General?”

“People suffered needlessly,” he allowed through gritted teeth.

Because the Order had lost.

But if they hadn’t…?

“A lot of people _have_ suffered,” Rey spoke up, cutting them both off. “And many more would have suffered, and died, had Palpatine got his way. Hux was the reason we knew he’d returned in the first place. He’s the reason we knew Exogol existed at all. Without Hux, the Sith Fleet would be hundreds of Destroyers strong by now. And Palpatine would still be alive.”

“And Kylo Ren,” the human woman interjected.

Rey gripped her staff a little tighter. “And Kylo Ren.”

The Councilwoman snorted. “There is still a Sith ship on the loose, is there not? Harboring enough firepower to destroy planets. A flying Starkiller. Who is to say they are not in league with General Hux and are simply lying in wait?”

“The _Sith_ have nothing to do with the Order,” Hux bit out, unable to stop himself.

“If you want to stop a weapon like Starkiller, who better to advise you than the man who created it?” Rose let go of Finn’s hand, taking a step towards Hux; towards the council. “He’s a brilliant engineer. He can _help_ the Republic prepare, defend itself against the Sith.”

“Your judgement is clouded by your feelings for this man,” the Councilwoman said, swiftly and plainly, words thrown like a javelin into Rose’s heart.

Rose jerked back before she reeled forward again.

“ _So what,”_ she hissed. “This war’s taken everything I’ve ever cared about; I’m not letting it tell me who I can or can’t love. You… _hypocrite.”_

A hush settled over the room as Hux’s stomach very nearly sank through the floor.

He bowed his head, trying to reign in the despair that welled inside, heart pounding up into his throat, threatening to choke him. 

The Councilwoman blinked her large eyes, drawing up in her chair, exacting her full, unnerving height.

Rose wasn’t intimidated. 

“If you wanted to change this galaxy for the better, you’d let him make amends. But you—” her voice broke “— you just want to punish him. Make an example of him. You just want someone to take the blame for all the men and women who created the Empire, and the Order.”

“Hmm,” the Caphex mused, raspy. “But Brendol Hux was the one… who started the stormtrooper program. Built up the Empire’s army for the Order. His son continued that legacy.”

Rose rounded on him. “You’re going to add his father’s crimes to his own, now? How is that fair?! He’s not Brendol!”

Hux froze.

_Not Brendol._

Suddenly, and like a swiftly rising tide, Hux knew he needed to hear it from her again. And again. Forever.

No longer did he care if the New Republic wanted him dead, or that the Resistance thought him a devil. No longer did he lament the loss of his life’s work or his coveted power. What they thought of him, any of them, including the ones who lived on only in memory, in his own self-doubt, they didn’t matter anymore.

They could call him a bastard for the rest of his days.

But to Rose, he was not his father.

To the council, Hux must have looked the very picture of shock; his gazing vacantly forward, his lips slightly parted, his naked astonishment.

The Council exchanged glances.

Eventually, Councilwoman Zeena sighed tiredly, rubbing her temples.

“Is that all?” She asked evenly.

Rose swallowed, slightly taken aback. “I-I…”

Rey reached out; touched her arm.

“Yeah,” Rose said, deflating a bit.

Hux longed to turn around and take Rose into his arms, but…

“Good,” the Councilwoman said with punctuated finality. “Now, have _you_ anything to say before we level our judgement, General? Do you wish to extoll your own virtues to this council?”

It was meant to be a barb. As if he had any virtues.

Hux said nothing. These people who had spoken for him, even after everything he’d done to them and their ilk; they’d stood before the New Republic and bid for mercy. There was nothing else to say.

He stared up at the Council with a resolute expression.

“No.”

“Excellent,” the alien woman said, sliding her datapad toward her, typing out a few words. After a moment, she looked back up. “All in favor of execution by firing squad?”

All five council members raised their hands aloft.

Poe swore.

Rose cried out, “No! Please! You can’t!”

“The motion is passed. You may take the prisoner back to his cell,” the Councilwoman said to the two Peacekeepers keeping watch by the door. The pair moved forward towards where Hux stood.

Finn scoffed. “Seriously?!”

“Don’t do this!” Rose was pleading, nearly drowning out the woman’s words, clutching onto the row of seats in front of her. “Be better than they were! Please!”

Hux did turn then, before the Peacekeepers were upon him. He didn’t have much time.

“Rose,” he said firmly, trying to catch her eye. “Rose, listen.”

She was crying now, tears streaming down her cheeks. “I won’t let them do this! I won’t!”

Poe threw up his hands. “So our words mean nothing, is that it?!”

“Rose, listen to me,” Hux said again in a calm, even voice, finally drawing her attention as the Peacekeepers grabbed a hold of his upper arm.

“Rose, I love you.” Hux tilted his chin down a fraction, needing her to understand. He loved her more than all the power and rank and blood-soaked ambition he could amass in a hundred galaxies in a hundred lifetimes.

Even as the room roiled in uproar, everyone shouting, everyone yelling around them, he could still hear her tiny, startled gasp.

She looked at him with a pained longing.

“Hux…”

The soldiers took hold of him then, dragging him back.

Rose yelped. “No!”

“Take him!” The Councilwoman bellowed.

Rey’s voice rang out like a bell. “Stop!”

Rose could feel it, that bright swell of power, like the pressure in the room had suddenly changed; like the ceiling had cracked open and all the swirling, brilliant lights of the galaxy had siphoned down into the palm of her hand.

Everyone looked over at Rey, hypnotized by the woman whose hand was held out towards the dais.

Finn blanched. “Rey…” he said with trepidation, “Rey, what are you doing?”

But Rey wasn’t listening, concentrating very hard instead on the members of the New Republican council.

“You don't want to execute this man,” she said calmly.

Councilwoman Zeena slouched slightly in her seat, an odd wave of calm coming over each of the council members in turn.

"We don’t want to execute this man," the human male muttered.

“He’s worth more to you alive.”

Finn gave a start. “Rey!”

“He’s worth more to us alive,” the human woman said to the others.

A look of horror, followed by intense, teeth-grinding anger, twisted Hux’s features as he realized just what she was doing.

 _“You,”_ he seethed.

Rey ignored him. “You will find a way he can live and be useful to the New Republic.”

“We will find a way he can live, and be useful to the New Republic,” said the Mon Calamari.

Hux would be damned if he was going to let this scavenger and her party tricks be the reason he clung to his miserable life. He wouldn’t have it.

Hux started forward, ready to rip the woman’s hand off if he had to, but something held him back. A strange, familiar feeling, one he was quite used to wrapping around his throat in anger, only here, it had him rooted to the spot, unable to move.

“You don’t want revenge,” Rey said, her own eyes shining with tears.

“We… don’t want revenge,” the old Caphex repeated, smacking his lips as if he were supremely satisfied with the quality of his decision.

Hux snarled at Rey, the scavenger, but then… his eyes drifted toward Rose, who was standing at her side. Her tear-streaked face looked at him like she’d awoken from some wondrous dream, only to find the thing she’d been hoping for, when there had been no hope left, had actually come true.

Living this life; what had been done to him, what he’d done to others… it was painful. So much pain. He could hardly bear it all without screaming, raging, _hurting_ to alleviate his own agony.

But… if he lived, Rose would be happy, wouldn’t she?

_"This war’s taken everything I’ve ever cared about…"_

No. There was no way he could do this, live like this; on a gift of borrowed time.

But… if he lived, and Rose loved him, anything was possible. Deep down, he knew that.

Hux’s brows pulled in with a look of defeat, the anger draining from him as he slumped in the guards’ now frozen grip, as they too were caught in the eddy of Rey’s power.

Rey smiled a little then. “The New Republic will be better.”

“The New Republic will be better,” Councilwoman Zeena said, as if her words were law, noting her decision down on her datapad, changing the Council’s edict right then and there.

Slowly, as if a cork had been pulled from a drain, the dizzying feeling of pure energy, pure power, swirled away.

“Whoa,” Poe muttered, sinking into one of the chairs, looking quite thrown.

“We look forward to working with you, General,” the Councilwoman said down to Hux, smiling as he turned to look at her, his expression twisted. “We shall discuss in what ways you will be useful to the Republic. For tonight, remain in your cell while we draw up the terms of your release. We appreciate your patience in this matter. If you please…”

She motioned and the Peacekeepers began to gently usher him back out into the hall, remarkably more hospitable in their movements. 

Hux’s jaw was clenched tight as he threw a hard glare in Rey’s direction. Rey held his gaze, but revealed nothing in her expression. 

“Hux?”

He turned his head to Rose, seeing the joy and the triumph in her face, but quickly had to look away.

He was ashamed.

Rose covered her mouth as he was led away, tears beginning to form again.

“Give him time,” Rey said softly, rubbing the other woman’s shoulder. “He needs time to understand.”

Rose’s chin quivered as she looked toward the Jedi with awe. “Rey…”

“If you will all excuse us,” the Councilwoman said, the five members. “We must discuss in private and formulate our next course of action. Good day to you.”

Once they’d filed out of the chambers, Finn surged forward, rounding on Rey.

“What did you do?!” He shrieked in a hoarse whisper. “You used the Force on them!”

Rey nodded, planting her feet. “I did.”

Finn’s mouth flapped open and closed. “You… you can’t do that!”

“Well, she obviously just did,” Poe said with a bemused laugh.

Finn groaned, exasperated and besides himself. “Rey! That’s— it’s _unethical.”_

Rey took a moment to collect herself before she spoke.

“I gave up my life to the Force, to kill Palpatine,” she uttered, soft and calm. “I survived, on my own, for so long, and I fought and I killed and I watched my friends die and I—” 

She broke off, swallowing tight. “I gave up the person I loved most. What’s the point of it all if I can’t do this one, right thing?”

Finn deflated, shoulders going slack. “Rey...”

Rose suddenly doubled over, hands on her knees as she gasped for breath. “Oh! Oh! He’s alive. He’s alive!”

Rey crouched down next to her, rubbing her back. “We should head back to the Falcon; come back tomorrow. We’ll know more then. He’s safe, Rose. You did it.”

“Me?” Rose looked up at the other woman as she rubbed her face, flush with emotion. “It was _you,_ Rey.” 

Rey shook her head. “The Force is created by all living things. It moves through and around all of us, binding the galaxy together. I could feel it, here, in this very room. The pain, the agony, the hope, the love. It was you, and it was me. It was all of us.”

Rose let the words settle into her, heart and soul. She beamed. “Thank you.”

* * *

Hux was furious.

As soon as they closed the door to his cell, he let out a long, loud growl of frustration and pain, hands reaching up into his hair to grasp at the strands, pulling hard. That _bitch!_

All his life he’d hated the Force. Hated those who used it. Hated that it caused chaos and disorder to rip across the galaxy. Hated that he had to fight tooth and nail against the fucking thing, stealing every breath Ren had allowed him through unseen fingers. 

And he couldn’t even be _mad at her_ without feeling _guilty_ because she’d saved his _miserable fucking life!_

He turned in his cell, around and around, but all he saw was red.

He hated the Force when it threw him across the room, into console panels and ship’s terminals.

He hated it when it caused the Order to slip from between his fingers, Pryde and Palpatine corrupting the only thing he’d ever given a single damn about. 

And in the end it had _saved him!_

A frenzied roar of madness tore from his lungs, blinding rage driving Hux painfully to his knees upon the floor of his cell. He collapsed forward upon his elbows.

The stinging whip of a backhanded blow, the taste of blood, fingers constricting around his windpipe—

Hux gasped for breath, a pained, high-pitch sound as he curled in upon himself, hot tears of frustration gathering in his eyes.

How much longer could he fight?

The only thing that had ever been easy was standing on Starkiller and commanding his men to fire.

_“You don’t get a blaster bolt to the brain so you don’t have to live with all the terror and anguish you’ve unleashed upon this galaxy.”_

She’d wrapped those words around his heart, lashing herself to him with firm castigation. He could still see her; Rose, looming over him as he reeled in the knowledge of the Order’s impotence and his own sudden uselessness, pitched against the side of the escape pod back on Ajan Kloss.

All this time… and he’d become more, because she’d willed it to be so. He’d surrendered to her long ago, before he even realized she had him.

The despair inside curled against his guilt and his pain and the one flicker of joy buried deep, deep down, unfurling further into his chest as he thought of her.

Brendol, Snoke, Ren, Starkiller, his own lust for power: Weak-willed, they said. A rabid cur. A nuisance to be thrown about the room when mad.

Pathetic.

_“You’re not pathetic. I don’t think you are.”_

Rose.

Her face, soft and surprised and _pleased_ when he uttered those three words to her—

I love you.

The Force had nearly killed him, and now, it had given him mercy, when he’d scarcely deserved it.

Everything he’d done, all of the blood on his hands. Still, it had given him one more chance.

For her.

* * *

Check out these amazing works of art, inspired by this story! I am so incredibly humbled by the talent in this fandom. You guys rock! Please visit them on twitter and show them some love!

@izam_w @gutlesswunder

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thanks to Dan and Brit for being amazing editors. I couldn't do this without you!  
> Only two installments left! We're in the home stretch! 
> 
> ***Please note the next two chapters will have adult/mature themes.***


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This chapter contains sexually explicit themes and descriptions.

Thoroughly worn-out, but still unable to sleep, Hux stared at the ceiling of his cell, stretched out upon his metal bunk.

_“You don't want to execute this man.”_

Uncertainty filled him with inescapable worry.

Would the Jedi’s manipulation eventually wear off? Would he be lulled into a false sense of security, only for the Council to call for his head someday in the future.

Over the five years he’d suffered through Kylo Ren, Hux had tried not to think of the Force very often, despite having been a regular target of its cruel punishment and disturbingly-perceptive brushes against his mind. The only time he’d ever waxed with wonder on the magical nonsense was when he’d daydream about how easy it would have been to snap Brendol’s neck, merely by thinking it.

_“He’s not Brendol!”_

Rose’s words echoed over and over in his mind, so much that he almost began to doubt his own memory. It had been a very long time since anyone had fought for him. Not since Sloane.

Now Rose.

Hux wanted to hear her voice, _needed_ to hear it; she grounded him. He tried, in vain, not to think about it: the fantasy of drawing her near, breathing in the scent of her. It was a dangerous hope to have. There were few things Hux had ever held dear and so far, they had all been taken away from him.

He could not bear to lose Rose, not after skirting death once more.

Hux’s stomach roiled with the uncertainty of what the day would bring as the early morning dragged on, and he ruminated further on the universe’s cruel sense of humor.

At some odd hour, just as his sense of time was beginning to fail him, a noise came from down the hall. The sound of doors opening.

The sound was the same as those the day prior, when the Peacekeepers had collected him for the Council’s determination. For a brief, terrifying moment, Hux panicked that perhaps he _had_ dreamt the whole trial, and only now was he _truly_ being taken to his sentencing.

He sat up so fast it made his head throb.

But when the cell door unlocked, and the old Peacekeeper opened the durasteel bars, there was no move to cuff him.

What now? He thought, trying to keep his guard up.

“Hello again, General,” the man said, in an almost disinterested tone, as if this was simply procedure.

Hux eyed him cautiously, slowly rising to his feet. A muscle above his lip pulled up in disdainful uncertainty, but still the other man made no move to cuff him.

Eventually, Hux’s curiosity got the better of him.

“What is it that I can do for you?” Flickers of impatient command seeped into his words almost unconsciously, as if he were addressing a subordinate.

The guard hiked his thumb. “You’re needed at the intake station.”

Hux smirked before adjusting his posture, chin thrown up.

“And if I refuse?” He asked it carefully; tone precise.

The man flashed him an annoyed look.

“Ya got visitors,” the man said in a gruff voice, clearly thinking this was a waste of this time. “But you're more than welcome to stay here if ya like.”

A thrill rattled through Hux at these words.

He hummed, mouth twisting into a frown despite an almost unrecognizable feeling of warm optimism rising within him.

“Perhaps not,” Hux muttered. 

Hux swallowed his hesitation and swept past the guard into the hall, hands clasped tight behind him, eyes darting up and down the cell block, weary despite the relief sweeping through him.

It was true. No execution squad awaited him. The coast was clear.

“Excellent... Well then,” Hux muttered, indicating with his chin for the soldier to lead the way.

The Peacekeeper looked more put-out than anything, but led nonetheless.

The remaining prisoners muttered among themselves as he passed, his head held high, a smirk playing about his lips.

But as the doors opened into the cellblock’s foyer, where they had first searched and cataloged him, Hux was rather displeased to see just _who_ was waiting for him.

“Hey, Hugs!”

Hux gave Dameron a scathing look, both he and Finn standing at one end of the duracrete table that was fixed to the floor.

“Do you simply have nothing better to do with your time than continue to harass me?” The venom in his voice was doubly-so, given who’d he’d _hoped_ would be waiting for him. He glared at them, coming to a stop on the other side of the table.

“What do you want?” Hux snapped.

Poe looked ready to throw something cheeky right back at him, but Finn got there first.

“Council wanted us to be the ones who briefed you, since technically it’s the Resistance that remanded you over to them.”

Poe nearly rolled his eyes, laying a datapad down on the table between them before sliding it part-way across over to Hux, who reached for it with a carefully controlled expression.

A page had already been loaded onto the screen; an official press briefing.

**_FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE_ **

**_From the Office of the Council of the New Republic_ **

**_Instrument of Surrender of All First Order forces._ **

Hux skimmed the document, absorbing just what sort of terms they’d laid out for him.

He was to surrender all First Order forces in orbit around the New Republican capital of Lira, as well as any and all forces in any and all sectors of the known galaxy. They would lay down their arms and surrender unconditionally. A typical point of order.

Further down, the Council once again reiterated their desire to locate the families of, or barring that, re-home, any of the younger cadets under fifteen years of age. All cadets older than the allotted cutoff were to be absorbed into the New Republican Peacekeepers. Those who refused would be jailed.

All First Order tech was to be turned over to the New Republic, as well as any ships or spacecraft. That seemed standard.

**_Supreme Leader General Armitage Hux will surrender himself to the mercy of the New Republic under a Council-certified offer of clemency. He will be henceforth barred from leaving the New Republican capitol of Lira under pain of incarceration, and will lead the Technological Developments Department in upcoming, Council-sanctioned projects as a mutually beneficial attempt at occupational reformation. In addition, Armitage Hux is hereby barred from the development of, or the taking up of arms against, the New Republic and allies therein._ **

Take up arms against the New Republic…

He really could, he thought. He was patient enough. He could play the long-game.

But before the thought could stay too far down the path of fantasy, Hux thought of Rose, and how she'd put herself on the line for him, and promptly dismissed the idea.

Instead, he pursed his lips to one side, eyes narrowing. He read it over a few times more before looking up at the men before him.

He frowned. “What sort of ‘projects’?”

“Defensive measures against the Sith fleet,” Poe explained. “That Destroyer’s still out there.”

Finn nodded. “Apparently, the tech used on the ship’s laser was adapted from Starkiller, so maybe you’ll know a way to build some kind of planetary shield against it.”

Hux thought for a moment, staring down at the datapad before him.

A planetary shield, hm? He supposed that would be possible. The internals of axial superlasers were indeed a modified version of his Starkiller design, connected directly to the _Xyston_ -class Star Destroyer's solar ionization reactor, so in theory he _could_ work back from that starting point…

He read the briefing once again.

“I am disallowed from leaving the planet,” he echoed eventually, voice a bit hollow.

“Yeah,” Finn confirmed. “They’re leaving in your chip so they can track you.”

Hux could feel the small bruise on the inside of his forearm, his heart beginning to similarly ache.

Rose would return to the Resistance and he would be prevented from going with her.

Hux swallowed, reading further. He would be required to live on-base, in an Officer’s apartment, and conduct weekly briefings with the Council, updating them on his progress.

At the bottom of the document was a place awaiting his signature. The Council, and the Resistance Generals, had already signed.

For all the sting at the idea of authorizing a document in which the word ‘surrender’ and ‘First Order’ were mentioned in the same sentence, it was a surprisingly reasonable set of conditions.

They’d kept him alive and found a way for him to be of some use to them. Just as the Jedi had _instructed._

Hux bristled at the thought of owing the scavenger anything, let alone his life, but there was nothing he could do. For what felt like the first time in a long time, he had to concede that he had no control.

Hux let out a short, heavy sigh, eyeing the blank line with his name typed underneath. Carefully, he pried the magnetized stylus from the side of the datapad, gripping it tight between his fingers.

Once he signed their document, that would be it.

He would be consigned under the New Republic’s watchful eye for the rest of his life.

But Rose loved him, and he loved her, with every fiber of his being, and he’d come to find that was the only thing he really cared about anymore.

He penned the quick, flick-ended scrawl of his name, reattached the stylus, and promptly set the datapad back on the table, as if he couldn’t bear to touch it for longer than was necessary.

Looking up, he saw Finn’s eyes were wide, as if he couldn’t believe Hux had actually done it.

“Welp,” Poe took the datapad back from the table, “let it not be said you never made any good choices, Hugs.”

Hux sneered at him, but was quickly distracted by a Peacekeeper plopping a plastoid bin onto the table beside him, his confiscated jacket resting inside.

He pulled the item forth and slipped it on, affixing his belt and attempting to smooth his hair over with his fingers. The side he parted to remained stubbornly fluffed, so he gave up, reaching for his gloves.

The creak of the leather as he pulled the cuffs tight to his wrist, fingers flexing, made some part of him feel whole again. At the swell of power it gave him, he couldn’t control the dark half-smile that piqued his mouth.

Finn and Poe shared a look.

“Are we good to go now?” Poe asked. “Cuz this place gives me the creeps.”

They took the turbolifts back up to the Council building, Hux standing at the back of the compartment. Finn pressed the button to start their ascent as the doors slid closed.

There was a moment of awkward silence, the only sounds the mechanical whirs around them, before Hux cleared his throat, speaking haltingly.

“I must… extend some measure of… gratitude… for… yesterday’s attempt at—”

“I didn’t do it for you,” Poe said in a rush without turning, voice a terse whisper, “so we can all just shut up about it.”

Hux glared at the back of the man’s head.

Finn angled his shoulders slightly to glance back at Hux. 

“You can thank us by honoring that document you just signed.” He turned back around, muttering, “Maybe you’ll be able to do some good for once.”

Poe shook his head, finally addressing the man behind him with a look over his shoulder, seemingly unable to stop his next words. “I can’t believe you actually signed it, Hugs. You love her that much?”

Hux held the man’s gaze. “Yes,” he said.

Finn smiled.

* * *

Out on the steps of the Council building, Rey watched Rose fold, unfold, then re-fold the greatcoat once again.

Rey giggled a little. “Someone’s _nervous.”_

Rose shot a glare in her direction, heat coloring her cheeks as she held the bundled piece of fabric tight in her arms.

“You’re not going to try and talk me out of it too, are you?” she asked out of the side of her mouth.

“Oh no,” Rey shook her head vigorously, giving Rose a dorky little thumbs-up, the tip of her tongue stuck between her teeth. “I’m sticking to the winning team.”

Rose looked down at her feet. “Do you… do you think he’ll really sign it?”

Rey smiled, dimples deepening. “Yeah. I do.”

Rose smiled slightly, but took sudden notice as Rey turned her head sharply to the closed doors of the Council building, as if she could sense that someone was approaching.

Rose turned as well, heart beating up into her throat, hands constricting in the fabric as the ornate doors to the building swung outward. She inhaled sharply, seeing Finn, then Poe, then Hux exit out into the bright afternoon.

Hux squinted against the daylight, turning his head slightly away, so that Rose saw the whole of his beautiful profile.

“Armitage.”

He turned at the sound of her voice, a breath rushing out of him as he took her in, standing there on the steps. Her hair was down, something he hadn’t seen before. It framed her face in a beautiful, dark halo.

Rose’s eyes shone with tears, even as a look of sheer relief and joy tugged her lips into a smile. She laughed out a sob, bringing up the bundle in her arms— his greatcoat he realized with mild horror— to dry her tears.

He gave her a look of warm disbelief; disapproving of her actions, and yet... the way she clutched his greatcoat to wipe her eyes, like she’d wrung it through her fingers as she worried over him, it left him breathless.

“Rose,” he reached toward her, moving in her direction, but was suddenly knocked back a step as she launched herself into his arms. He caught her in a gentle swing, drawing her close, his coat smooshed between their bodies as they wrapped their arms around each other.

Burying his face in the crown of her hair, he couldn’t help the small nuzzle that he pressed there, despite how keenly he felt the others’ eyes upon them. 

Rose tightened her grip.

She smelled just as he remembered: floral and spice.

Behind them, Rey was sporting a wide, toothy grin.

“Oh!” Rose cried and jumped back suddenly.

Hux froze, giving her a startled look, arms still raised where he’d been holding her.

A guilty grimace twisted her mouth as she began shaking out the now very wrinkled greatcoat. “Shoot, I _just_ folded this!”

Hux laughed, a short sound, like he thought she was thoroughly ridiculous, but only loved her more for it.

“Here,” she said, holding it out for him.

Instantly, he knew what she was asking.

She looked at him expectantly, her heart full.

Heat crept up the back of his neck at the thought, how it would be another naked display of affection to allow her this, but he was so delighted in seeing her. He scowled for only half a second before stepping toward her and turning, letting her hold the coat as he slipped his arms inside.

He avoided the gazes of the others, instead turning to look at the town square, taking a quick scan as he turned back to Rose, pulling the lapels forward and shrugging into the shoulders.

He noticed that someone had removed the First Order insignia from the arm.

He gave Rose a look as he adjusted his sleeves, only— he stilled, realizing then that she’d left the black and white demarcation bands of ‘General’ around the cuff.

He swallowed, jaw working, as he caught her gaze with an almost pained expression.

“I knew you’d like that,” she whispered, sounding a little shy.

His heart swelled.

Behind them, Poe coughed loudly, even as Finn tried to stop him with an elbow to the ribs.

Hux glared at them, but his gaze eventually settled on the Jedi. He drew himself up tall, stepping back beside Rose, and gave the other woman a leveled, calculating look.

Rey stared back at him, a twinkle in her eye, squinting with a small smirk.

“You’re welcome,” she said.

Hux sneered. “I didn’t say _thank—”_

“Oh, I was talking to Rose,” Rey amended quickly, unable to help as her smirk cracked into a giddy grin. “But you’re welcome, too, I guess.”

Hux glowered at her.

“We should head back to the Falcon,” Finn said, nudging Poe’s shoulder with his own.

“Yeah, I dunno,” Poe clicked his tongue, hands in his jacket pockets as he glared at Hux. “Maybe we should stick around a little longer. You know. As chaperones.” 

Finn rolled his eyes.

“Will you get over it,” he hissed, nudging the reluctant pilot slowly down the steps. “We’re planning on heading out tomorrow, okay?” He added to Rose as they passed.

“Got it,” Rose said with easy agreement.

As much as Hux felt relief at seeing her again, there was a flicker of grief in him too at her words.

Tomorrow, they would leave. She would leave.

Finn gave Hux a firm nod, Hux tilting his chin in response, even as Poe ignored him altogether.

“I should get going, too,” Rey said, shifting her staff to give Rose a hug.

“I’ll miss you,” Rose said, hugging back.

Rey gave Hux a small smile, and even without her using the Force, he felt like she could see right through him.

“Call whenever you want,” Rey said, giving Rose a little wave as she walked down the steps.

Hux turned away from the Jedi, but paused with a look of confusion.

Slowly he turned back, cocking his head.

The Jedi was alone, but Hux would have sworn, just for a second, out the corner of his eye, he’d seen a tall figure at the woman’s side.

Curious…

Rose reached out, taking his hand and gaining his attention. “Now that everyone’s gone, can I please just kiss you?”

He used their joined hands to pull her close, smiling down at her as he turned her face with a gloved hand. His slow, savoring kiss quickly turned desperate as Rose gripped him by the back of the neck, surging up on her toes to work her mouth hungrily over his.

Hux drew in a sharp breath through his nose; Rose let out a delighted little sound, her tongue plunging into his mouth. By the time they broke apart, they were both gasping for breath.

Hux flushed, gaze darting around in embarrassment, but no one was watching them.

“I’m so proud of you,” Rose whispered, keeping herself close enough to brush errant locks of hair from his forehead. “It’s not going to be easy, working for them, but you did the right thing.”

He frowned. “Surely you must realize that it was all for you.”

Rose smiled. “You’re cute. But I don’t care. I got what I wanted.”

“Is that so?” He thumbed the swell of her cheek. “And what now, now that I’m yours?”

A look of excitement came over her. “I’m glad you asked.”

He eyed her. “Really.”

“Yeah, come on,” she tugged on his hand, moving to walk down the steps of the Council building.

Hux followed her like a siren’s song, his arm extended as she led him. His gaze traced the curve of her body as they descended into the square; drank her in. Having been denied her presence for two days too long, he was intoxicated with how she sashayed before him.

“And where might we be going?” He tried to slide his hand away from hers, but she gripped him tight.

“Well, let’s just say… Finn and Poe might have been the ones to meet you downstairs, but,” she looked over her shoulder at him then, and he couldn’t miss the heat in her gaze. “I’m sort of your escort.”

He swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. “My _escort?_ Escort to where?”

“To where you’ll be staying, of course.”

His lips parted in surprise as they made their way across the square. He moved to keep up stride alongside her, taking in the town center, a quaint mix of local charm and an obvious infusion of New Republican wealth.

She still wouldn’t let go of his hand, even as the town teemed with life around them. Hux was sure he attracted unwanted attention, sure there were plenty of glares and dark mutterings as he passed, but in all honesty, he barely noticed.

He only saw the beautiful afternoon sun, how it played upon the mountains in the distance, the shop windows as they passed, and upon the face of the beautiful woman at his side. Listening to her voice set an easy contentment in him, both a new and welcomed feeling.

“There’s a pub, too, just down the road,” she was saying. “And there’s a bunch of different carts that come and set up shop in town, even some tech traders. You can tell who’s who cuz all the carts are marked by different colored banners.”

Hux chuckled. “How long have you been here? Just two days?”

Rose did release his hand then, only to let her fingers slide up his arm, clutching him there around the bicep, the movement bringing her closer as they walked.

“I wanted to get to know the area!” She protested, even as the houses and shops thinned and the military base came into view around the corner. She looked up at him, his ginger hair aglow in the sun, the sharpness of his features offset by the ease of his expression. A few stray threads still clung to the side of his jacket, where the First Order symbol used to rest.

“You said it was a long time since you’ve really _lived_ planet-side. Since Arkanis, right?”

He nodded, brows knitting.

Rose gripped him tighter. “Just think of this as an opportunity to enjoy non-space living for a while.”

“You hopeless optimist.”

“Someone’s got to be,” she shot back, nudging her hip against him playfully.

They’d taken the opposite road from Poe, Finn, and Rey, who’d all walked back towards the airfield and the landing pads. The direction Rose had guided Hux instead led to the side of the New Republican base that housed the Officers’ and Peacekeeper’s barracks.

Hux examined the grounds around them as they passed from town to the base proper.

The base was small. Compared to any of the military installations he had ever visited or been stationed in, it was positively tiny.

“Quaint,” he muttered sarcastically as Rose unlocked the front gate with a data chip. As the panel buzzed, authenticating, she handed the chip over to him.

Hux took it, stowing it in his coat pocket.

“You’ve been here before,” he observed, not really asking.

Rose smiled sheepishly. “Maybe. I had to make sure it was up to your standards before they offered you the apartment.”

“Apartment? _My standards?”_

She shot him a smile. “You’ll see.”

They skirted the edge of the parade grounds, an expansive space of duracrete and neatly-trimmed turf, toward a two-story complex on the left side of the base. Hux looked up at the tall, jagged mountains that loomed in the near distance, the sun throwing golden shadows upon the rock face.

They came eventually to a mostly nondescript building, dual-leveled and a light grey color, with a staircase running along the outside. Rose practically bounded up two steps at a time, Hux trailed after her, coat whipping in the breeze.

As he reached the second floor, he trailed down the open hallway to where Rose was waiting for him in front of the end unit, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Her excitement was infectious; he couldn’t help the smile that pulled at his mouth as he came to a stop beside her.

“Is this it then?” he asked, knowing full well it was.

“You have to open it,” she said, a little breathless, “with the keycard.”

She bit her bottom lip, watching his nimble fingers dip into his pocket, extracting the thin electronic device to press against the command pad next to the door.

As he did so, Hux watched her with a sideways glance, smiling slightly at her enthusiasm, before the lock clicked and the door slid open into the wall.

Before he could step over the threshold, Rose swept past him, unable to contain her glee.

Following her, Hux was surprised and strangely comforted to find that the apartment was similar in size to his quarters aboard the _Supremacy._ The main room contained a good-sized table, two slat benches for seating on either side. Along the same wall as the front door was the kitchenette and subsequent storage space, and along the left-handed wall was a window that opened towards the town in the distance.

Across from the small entryway was the door to the fresher, followed to the left by a desk against the wall, and further down lay what must have been the bedroom, the door tucked into the back-left corner of the room.

The window in the living space was open, bathing the apartment in warm, golden light that filtered in through the delicate curtains.

“Well?” Rose spread her arms, turning on the balls of her feet in the empty space between the front door and the table. “What do you think?”

What did he think?

He felt like a foreign visitor on some strange planet. He felt like this was all a dream, one he was about to wake from.

As he surveyed the room, his gaze fell upon a small, squat bottle resting on the table.

Frowning, he moved toward it, turning the bottle to read the label.

“Corellian whiskey?” He asked, incredulous.

“A housewarming gift. From the others,” she said, toeing her shoes off and kicking them over near the door, which had since slid closed.

Hux dropped his hand from studying the bottle, curling it into a fist upon the table.

“All of this…” he muttered.

“Huh?” Rose walked up to stand at his shoulder.

“It is all very… thoughtful,” he said, avoiding her questioning gaze. Despite the selflessness of her words and the tenderness in her actions, a grey cloud of worry swirled at the edges of his mind. 

He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice as he added, “I will be sure to drink a glass in your memory.”

Her face screwed up. “What?” She laughed, a little confused. “Why?”

“Something to remember you by,” he rushed out. “For when you’ve gone back to the Resistance.”

He stole a glance at her then, just in time to see Rose plant her hands firmly upon her hips.

When she spoke next, it was clear she struggled to keep her voice calm, even as it obviously wavered. “Is that… is that what you want?”

“It matters little what I want,” he responded, letting himself slip into despondency, knowing full well he was doing so but unable to help himself. “I heard what the others said. You plan on leaving tomorrow.”

“ _They_ plan on leaving tomorrow, Hux,” she implored, touching his arm.

He studied her, the blush high on her cheeks. His heart stuttered and skipped at the look on her face; bashful, but determined.

Did she mean…?

He dare not believe it, not until she said it to him plainly.

His torture was short-lived as Rose took a steadying breath, holding his gaze. “I want to stay. Here. On Lira. With you. If— if you want that, too.”

He turned toward her fully then, gazing down at her with a slight frown.

“The Resistance…” he began.

“Will be perfectly fine without me,” she said, making a dismissive gesture.

Hux narrowed his eyes. “But your position…”

“I plan on resigning my post.”

He blinked at that. “You’d give up your rank? As Lieutenant General? Head of the Engineering Corps?”

Rose frowned at the pitched-high disbelief in his voice.

“I don’t care about my rank, Hux.” She was trying to be gentle, but she needed him to understand. “I served in the Resistance because I wanted to fight the First Order. And now? They’re gone. The war is over. Neither of us have to fight anymore.”

Hux swallowed.

Yes, the war was over.

“You have the entire galaxy to explore, Rose.” He didn’t say it coldly, only with leveled truth.

Perhaps it was because he’d always been taught to measure people, but in Rose he saw all the power that came with rank, and experience, and _winning_ ; her brilliance, her passion, her unbroken spirit even still.

She hadn’t fought her entire life. She could get out, get away, and do whatever she wanted. Anything.

He wanted her to be free, like he’d never been.

“This place would be your prison,” he said, even as it tore at him to admit it. “And— I am afraid,” he said softly, and in a low-toned whisper. “I am afraid I cannot be the man you want me to be.”

Rose shook her head, her own voice pitched down, like she really wanted to kiss him and throttle him all at once. “You already are, you dummy.”

“Rose…”

She set her jaw, glaring fiercely up at him.

“I need to know,” she said. “I need you to say it. Do you want me to stay?”

Hux stared at her a moment longer, trying to make himself understand that Rose, this beautiful, stunningly bullheaded and truly kind woman, wanted to be with _him._

His expression broke under the intensity of her, because in this matter, he wanted to be selfish.

“Yes,” he breathed, as if he were afraid saying it out loud might bar it from becoming true.

A wide smile broke across Rose’s face, her eyes becoming misty with emotion.

“I—” she started, voice quavering, but the other words would not come.

This time, she did not need to ask for his kiss. Hux brought his gloved finger up, pushing gently at the underside of her chin, drawing her face upward as he leaned over and pressed his mouth to hers.

Rose made a pleasured sound as Hux kissed her gently, then with more urgency, tilting and deepening the contact while parting her lips. Rose let him, acquiescing to the way he mapped her mouth with the gentle curl of his tongue.

Her hands slipped up to his shoulders, worked under his coat, and brushed it back. He let her do it, shouldering out of each side in turn while keeping their mouths connected with long, desperate kisses.

Rose got hold of his lower lip, biting down a little harder than she meant to, earning a breathless hiss from Hux as he tossed the coat onto the bench. She slipped her fingers into the seam of his jacket, but paused as she felt him go still, remembering his hesitation the last time she’d tried to remove his clothing.

She pulled back, brows drawn together, and peered up into his face, taking in the flushed coloring of his pale cheeks, his half-lidded, grey-green eyes.

Before she could pull away from his jacket, he stayed her hand with his own, and with the pressure of the contact, she could feel the vibrations of his voice within his chest.

“Let me be brave for you, in this at least,” he implored, helping her undo the fasteners that held his jacket closed.

As her fingers made quick work down the jacket’s seam, Hux reached toward the buttons on her khaki shirt. Rose let out a warm sigh as the leather of his gloves brushed against her collarbone, and the sound went straight to the core of him.

Hux let out a shaking breath. He was no stranger to companionship at the most basic of levels, but... to love on someone with the whole of your heart, to feel the gift of them, it was something he’d never thought he’d get the chance to experience. 

Here she was, eager to be in his arms, and he was still nervous at being so exposed to her.

Rose, on the other hand, was flush with victory and single-minded purpose: to feel him, warm and alive and pressed against her.

“Fucking impractical,” she hissed, taking issue with his belt, the wide metal buckle, and the jacket’s sleeves. In order to take it off, he’d have to stop touching her, and Hux was already in the process of delicately tugging the hem of her shirt from the waist of her pants.

Hux did pull away, much to her reluctance, and eased out of his jacket, noticeably hesitant, but with conviction, revealing the thin material of his black undershirt. Rose used the opportunity to pull the rest of her shirt out of her pants, unbuttoning it all the way down to reveal the nude-colored fabric wrapped around her chest. Arm reaching back and under easily, she took hold of the end of her binding and began to unwind the cloth from around her breasts.

For a brief moment, Hux paused, the hem of his undershirt half rolled up his stomach, caught in breathless anticipation as the beautiful expanse of Rose’s tan skin became more and more exposed, until the smooth swell of her chest was laid bare to him, her pendant resting gently against her breast bone.

She caught him staring. 

He swallowed, throat bobbing, and looked to the floor, hands clenching a little tighter at the fabric of his shirt. 

Rose felt herself blush, pleased and giddy that she could affect him so, taking him in with her own voracious gaze.

He’d paused with his shirt hem hovering above his navel, leaving a clear view of the trail of soft ginger hair that disappeared below the waist of his trousers. Heat churned low in her belly at the thought of trailing her fingers down to what lay beneath.

He saw her looking, too. Despite his simmer of hesitation, he did want her; she saw it plain in his hungry expression and in the tight strain against the zipper of his pants.

“You next,” she said, voice warm with breathy excitement, pulling slightly on her own shirt with impatience.

She didn’t move towards him; she wanted to give him space. He appreciated that.

He trusted Rose with all of his being, but some things were still difficult.

In as smooth a motion as he could, Hux rolled the undershirt up and over his head, stripping it from his arms and tossing it aside. He watched it land on top of his jacket, and kept his gaze trained there, as if he didn’t want to see her expression.

Scars, and burns too, dotted his otherwise pale, smooth chest. He wasn’t covered in them, but there were enough. Enough that Rose felt sorrow and love well inside her as she stepped forward.

“Oh, Hux…”

He flinched as she brushed her fingers over a spot the size of her thumb located on the upper part of his right pectoral muscle. It was a very old burn; something from his youth.

She didn’t linger there, but fluttered her touch over the lightly defined muscles of his chest, his abdomen. Hux shivered as she did so.

“I finally get you all to myself,” she whispered, leaning in to press her lips to the warmth of his skin. “I’ve thought about it so much; it was driving me crazy.” She splayed her hands over him, wanting to touch every inch.

His breath hitched, earning a grin from her. “You— you have?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, tone honeyed with wicked delight. Unable to help herself, she latched on to a spot of pale skin upon his chest, determined to mark him with her mouth.

Hux gasped, his hands flying up to her arms, but not to push her away, to hold her closer as she left the little bruise with a small pop, moving to pepper him with kisses.

Before she knew it, he was walking her backwards. Rose gasped as her back connected with the wall beside the fresher door, the power in his arms trembling through her, gathering as a tight heat between her legs.

He dipped his head to kiss her soundly and Rose squirmed in delight as he moved to nip his way down her throat, brushing over the cord of her necklace, gloved hands pinning her wrists out upon the wall.

“Oh!” the startled sound jumped from her lips as he mouthed his way across her collarbone and down the valley of her breasts, giving the flesh of one a firm bite. The sensation danced deliciously around pain and pleasure, his face brushing against her pendant as he went. 

Almost unconsciously, Rose parted her legs wide to make room for him, and his bare shoulders dragged against the fabric on her thighs as he knelt before her. Rose writhed, his mouth pressing a wet kiss to a particularly ticklish part near her hip bone, chuckling as she gasped.

“Sensitive there, are you?” His tone was devilish. 

She was about to issue some retort, but could only squeal as he reciprocated her earlier marking of him, drawing up red upon her skin as he pulled with his mouth.

“So mean,” she teased, even as he soothed the mark with his tongue. 

She could feel his smile against her flesh. His hands released her wrists, moving to work the front of her fatigues open. 

“It’s only fair,” he tutted.

Rose shimmied the pants down her legs, increasingly impatient. Hux helped pull them away, nipping and kissing at each new bit of her that was exposed.

The way he was mouthing against her—

If his kissing was anything to go by, well… She curled her toes at the thought, biting her lip.

“Hurry,” she growled, but he continued his methodical pace, seeming to enjoy her frustration, aiding her as she toed off her pants, one foot at a time. 

Rose hooked her thumbs under the band of her underwear, working those down as well and kicked them off haphazardly.

Hux snorted, his breath and the cool air of the room hitting the slick warmth of her core, now so very close to him.

“Only just arrived and you’re already making a mess of things,” he chastised affectionately, licking up the crease of her thigh. “Our quarters will be buried before too long.”

Rose laughed, a loving sound of pure delight. _“Our?”_

Hux made a warm noise at that, catching her waist in his gloved palms. He trailed fire along her skin as his hands shifted, surging back and down over the swell of her ass, kneading there a moment before retreating the touch back around to the front of her thighs, pinning her there.

“Ah, Hux—” Rose pressed her heels hard into the floor with intense impatience.

He dipped his head to taste her with the flat of his tongue, eliciting a dark moan from her. Rose’s hand flew to her mouth to muffle the sound, winding her other fingers into his hair and rocking against him.

He swirled his tongue down to tease against her entrance; Rose desperately wanted more, trying to chase his mouth with a cant of her hips, writhing despite how he tried to hold her steady. 

He began to lap at her center in earnest, humming in satisfaction as she twitched and panted above him. She could feel the vibration of his sound between her legs, causing her to moan out his name. He smirked, closing his lips tight and giving a tight suck to the bud at the apex of her warm, parted folds.

At the sharp, sizzling bolt of pleasure this caused, Rose instinctually jerked her thighs, trying to clamp them shut, but his shoulders were wedged between her legs, preventing her from doing so.

For a moment, his hands released her legs completely so he could tug off his right glove, laying it beside him on the ground. His bare fingers brushed against the inside of her thigh, creeping ever higher, until she felt the brush of his fingertips along the dewy length of her opening, where she ached for him.

Rose felt him gasp against her core as he explored her further, dipping one digit into her, then two. She couldn’t stop herself from grinding down upon his nimble fingers as they finally sank and curled inside her.

It was all too much, her legs having gone weak, unable to keep from sliding down the wall onto him, even as he held her up with the press of his shoulders and his free hand.

He worked his mouth against her sex, his fingers hooked within her as she shuddered and cried out, knowing by her reaction he’d found the right spot.

Her gasps grew in octave and cadence, her fingers twisting in his hair, tugging a strangled groan from him as Hux flicked his tongue against her tender bud in haste. The tightly coiled feeling in her finally burst, muscles contracting as the wave of bliss crashed through her.

Hux pulled back as she bucked, pressing his cheek against the skin of her lower belly, breathing hard as she spasmed against him and ground down upon his palm.

A choked moan curled into the air from her parted lips as her back hit the wall, having arched toward him as her passion peaked. If he let go of her now, he knew she’d slip down to the floor. He wasn’t going to give her the chance, not after her whine turned into a breathless chant.

“Please,” she was muttering, smoothing her fingers through his hair. “Please. Armitage. I need you.”

She made a whimpering noise as he slipped his hand from within her.

At the sight of him, wiping his mouth on the back of his forearm, Rose blushed. Except, when he glanced up at her, his eyes were heated, glittering darkly. He looked like he’d enjoyed it.

Watching her above him, shirt open and framing her breasts, her chest and face flushed with exertion, eyes half-closed and watery; it made the lust and want of her roar inside him.

In one swift motion he gripped her under her ass, pulling her up as he stood. Automatically, her legs wound round him, even as she made an oversensitive hiss at the press of his groin against her.

He didn’t make it far, but set her gently onto the top of the small desk further along the wall, pulling her ass so it hung over the edge, taking her mouth in a quick, bruising kiss before releasing her. She barely had time to return it, his lips there and gone again before she could register them through her euphoria.

Rose leaned her shoulders and the back of her head against the wall, one hand curled against the front of the table.

“Couldn’t even make it to the bedroom, huh?” She teased, catching her breath as she came down from her ecstasy, eyeing Hux’s disheveled appearance with no small amount of hunger.

He gave her a wry look as he fumbled with the fly of his pants.

“I had thought you quite eager. If that is not the case...” 

His movements slowed, causing Rose to huff in frustration, earning her a triumphant smirk. But all signs of feigned annoyance fled from her as he pushed his trousers and briefs down around his hips in one fluid motion, exposing the whole hard length of him, flushed and straining.

Instinctually, Rose reached out with her free hand, but paused. Hux was staring down at her, his hands braced against the tabletop, looking as if he were focusing very hard.

“Is it okay?” she asked in a quiet voice. “I want you make you feel good, too.”

He blushed, his face thoroughly red with embarrassment and need.

She waited a beat to assess his comfort, reaching forward again when he did not flinch away. His eyes fluttered closed as she curled her fingers around the firm silk of him. She stoked upward, very gently, and he let out a slightly strangled sound.

“If— if you keep doing that—” He broke off with a shuddering sigh.

Rose grinned wickedly, kicking out a leg around the back of his hips, drawing him nearer the table as she shimmied a bit more towards the edge, keeping her hand on him as she guided him closer.

His brows knit in concentration, one arm moving to brace against the wall, the other flat against Rose’s back to hold her up. 

He nudged against her; she was so slick. The easy, trembling glide of her, the anticipation of claiming her fully, it made him groan, even as a storm of sudden uncertainty and nerves twisted within him. 

“Rose…”

She cupped his face with both her hands, keeping herself anchored with her legs hooked around him.

“I love you,” she muttered, caressing his face and dotting his lips with gentle kisses, pulling him close as she whispered sweetly in his ear. “But if you don’t fuck me right now, Hux, I’m going to fucking scream.”

Hux laughed a breathy note, pleased despite his momentary awkwardness. He leaned in to kiss her, steadying her with his hand as it slipped down to the small of her back. Tucking his hips against her, he met with little resistance, moving to sheath himself within her in one long, slow stroke. She groaned against his mouth, arching. He let her lean back against his hand, a better angle for them both.

They both paused to catch their breath, Rose adjusting to the delicious stretch of him, Hux making sure he wasn’t about to lose himself completely and ruin the entire moment.

“Oh hell,” he uttered under his breath, nearly undone, marveling at the tight heat that surrounded him.

Rose whined, shifting her hips forward and back, a shallow motion, but still, it sent him reeling

She sighed, besides herself. 

“Yes… it’s perfect,” she muttered, eyes closed tight, unable to stop from curling her hips a second time.

Hux bit down on the inside of his cheek, hard, trying to distract himself with pain as he pulled back, sliding forward again a moment later as she drew him into her.

Leaning over her, he felt her mouthing his neck, grazing him with her teeth as he started a slow, near-torturous pace.

With every roll into her, as his hips came to rest flush against hers, Rose felt him reach deeper and deeper, brushing against a spot that made her jolt in pleasure. She met every motion she could, greedy for more.

Soon, their joined desperation grew, moving together as the pace increased, rocking the table slightly against the wall behind, knocking it back as Hux took her with renewed vigor.

Rose let her own hand brush down between them, caressing herself as their combined gasps and hitching moans grew in volume.

“Sweet stars,” Hux gasped against her shoulder, feeling the way she fluttered around him, the pressure in his groin coiling tight. “Rose…”

The sound he made shot down to the mounting pressure between her legs, her fingers stumbling in hurried anticipation as she rocked against the strength of him, feeling his movements turn wild and rough. Between her practiced fingers and his firm thrusts, she was quickly building towards that peak once more.

Her body spasmed, legs constricting as the pleasure crescendoed high, singing along her body in hot sparks, the force of it making her cry out as she clenched around him.

Hux’s eyes went wide, his gasping breath cut short by the tight compression of her, stilling after one, final, punishing thrust. He held onto her for dear life as the force of his own orgasm made him shake, his head dropping heavily into the crook of her neck.

Rose held him tight, floating on the feeling of being in his arms, and at the gentle pulse of him as he spilled himself deep within her.

It took Hux a moment to return to himself, realizing her hands were caressing his back in soothing circles as he muttered, breathless, against her skin.

“Rose. Rose, I love you. I love you.”

“I know,” she purred, nuzzling him with her cheek, a feeling of pure contentment enveloping them both. “I love you too.”

* * *

Check out this amazing and sexy art @izam_w created, inspired by an earlier version of this chapter.

Please visit her on twitter!

(nsfw)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big thank you to Brit, who helped encourage me as I penned such a steamy chapter, and for enduring my embarrassed flailing. Her meticulous edits, helpful tips, and invaluable comments really helped get this chapter over the finish line. Thank you for being a sounding-board for my ideas and for doubts and for my fangirl tomfoolery. You're amazing!
> 
> Also, thanks to my hubby Dan, who endured editing my first piece of smut. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! Epilogue will be out next week. Stay safe, and love to all!


	17. Chapter 17; Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and enjoyed this story. It has been a long journey, and if you were here from the start, or only just stumbled upon it recently, you are what makes all the joy, frustration, and wonder of writing all worthwhile. There will be more gingerose from me in the future, but this particular work will always hold a special place in my heart.

It only took a month to sort them all.

Honestly, Hux was surprised it went so fast.

When you tear children away from their mothers, most individual information does tend to get a bit lost. The Order had kept impeccable records concerning the children’s aptitudes and attributes, but little in the way of where they’d all come from. Those from prominent old-Empire families were easily sent home, but for the others, it became increasingly difficult to send them away.

Did they have any remaining family to return to? For that matter, did they have any remaining _planet?_

He was made to approve every transfer, view every personnel file, put a face to each and every life he’d upended. It had been another one of the New Republic’s _projects_ for him.

Rose had offered her help, acutely aware of the sheer volume of destruction he’d have to review, but Hux had politely refused. He might have been a murderer, a traitor, a rabid cur, but a shirker of duties he was not. It was all a result of his actions, after all. It was his assignment, and his alone.

Admittedly though, it did wear on him. But did it make him regret? On that he was still unsure. It certainly made him feel something, but he was so far unable to identify just what the emotion was.

But Rose was proud of him, and if he could only prove himself to one person in the whole chaotic vastness of the universe, and that person was Rose, then it was worth it.

File by file, he signed off on which children could be reunited with their families, and which children and young adults would instead be consigned to the New Republic, in what was increasingly becoming more like an orphanage rather than Peacekeepers’ base.

It became abundantly clear, and very quickly, that the destroying and soiling of habitable planets was coming back to bite him. The loathsome Republic might have been a dithering, ineffective mess, but it had at least had some semblance of established infrastructure. Now, he was trying to build it all back up from scratch, while being relegated to planet-wide house arrest.

To his immense chagrin, Hux was beginning to feel as if Starkiller had made more of a mess, in the end.

Not long after he’d started his sorting, Hux had needed to drain the remaining First Order coffers, accounts not even Pryde had usurped access to. The funds went into the building of dormitories and ancillary buildings for the displaced cadets. At first, the Council had been wary, but they were still looking at a vast pool of potential Peacekeepers, so they had relented.

They would all be housed then, and fed, but… he couldn’t just leave them to their own devices either. So, naturally, the most logical course was to design a curriculum.

“A school!” Rose had gasped, looking thrilled when he’d told her his idea, even as he winced at the thought.

The decision to open an Academy, when he’d first made it, had been accompanied with nausea; a storm of memories. Red-faced Commandants, expressionless nanny droids, and the echo of warm, honeyed laughter he could almost remember. He had endeavored, over the years, to consign these things to painful, distant memory.

But the opportunity to spit on Brendol's grave one last time, give away all the knowledge the First Order had amassed over the decades, proved too strong a pull. It was perhaps the greatest gift fate could have given him.

When drawing up his plans, he’d included the necessary core modules: mathematics, science, galactic studies, and language skills. They would be free to choose upon completion: join the Peacekeepers, earn a commission, or seek prospects elsewhere.

“You’re missing a few,” Rose had pointed out when he’d shown her his proposal.

Hux had bristled. “I think not.” 

“What about all the fun stuff, huh? The arts? Diplomacy? If you’re going to give them an education, don’t you think it should be _well-rounded?”_

Hux had grumbled darkly at that, but despite his initial impulse to rebuff the suggestion, he’d amended the charter before submitting it in for review.

The Council had approved it, all of it, much to his immense surprise and Rose’s abundant glee.

Hux looked over from the apartment’s table to the display panel next to the front door, on which the date and time were illuminated.

Rose would be returning to the new Liran spaceport in a few hours, closer to evening, from another supply run to Ajan Kloss. He wanted to make sure to meet her, but he still had time.

He returned his attention back to the holoimages hovering above the table and to the datapad upon which he was taking notes. He was in the process of cannibalizing the First Order holonet onto New Republican servers, deleting certain bulk files from being accessed and storing them instead on a personal drive. What the New Republic didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them, and Hux would prefer a few of his more conceptual weapons stay just that: concepts.

Hux tapped his writing stylus against the datapad, his thoughts as wandering as his gaze, ruminating on the task before him as he took in the small apartment.

Even in the short time they’d been planet-side, Rose had managed to leave her touch on nearly every surface.

She’d smuggled down one of the more plush recliners from the Star Destroyer’s Officer’s Lounge, having set it against the wall nearest the front entrance.

“I would have gone for the couch,” she’d admitted at the time, “but I didn’t think it would fit.”

Beside the armchair was a tall, tropical plant resting in a reclaimed plastoid bin, broad leaves fanned out in a bright splash of verdant green; a souvenir from their time at the Resistance base.

Hux had given her a hard time about invasive species, but she’d waved him off.

“It’s not like I’m going to be taking the thing for a walk,” she’d groused, spinning the plant around until she found its most flattering angle.

There had been other acquisitions to suddenly appear in their quarters: a set of cookware and crockery pilfered from the Destroyer’s on-board kitchens, a brand-new sonic shaver, multiple sets of Officers’ uniforms, and a few sets of linens just to name a few.

Hux never asked if she cleared any of it with the Council, or if she’d simply stolen the items during her quartermasters’ duties. Honestly, he didn’t want to know.

The thought of her smuggling it all down right under the Council’s collective noses was just the sort of brash action he’d expect from a rebel, and, well, he did find it quite attractive, and in a way he knew he shouldn't, which only seemed to fuel the illicit thrill of it even more.

Hux returned to his work, smiling to himself at the thought.

Not long after, and much to his surprise, he heard the door chime as it unlocked. He looked up from his seat in time to see the entrance slide back and Rose walk over the threshold, carrying what looked like a blanket-covered parcel in her arms, as well as a wide tote bag hooked over her other shoulder, fit to burst.

“Rose…”

He stood as she entered, extracting his legs from under the table, eyes darting to the chronometer to check the time.

“Oh, I know I’m back early,” Rose said, setting the covered box down gently upon the ground and making her way over to him.

“How was the journey?” He asked, accepting her into his arms as she walked forward in their shared quarters.

“Uneventful,” she said, voice muffled against the front of his black jacket.“If you don’t count Poe trying to rope me into being a Resistance liaison. _Again.”_

Hux snorted, taking the heavy bag from her shoulder and setting it down on one of the kitchen table benches.

“Dameron’s missing his top Engineer,” he nearly crooned, taking dark delight in denying the showboating pilot Rose’s brilliance and wit on a daily basis.

“Oh stop,” she pulled away, giving his sharp smirk a poke, her finger bouncing against his cheek. “He means well. Honestly, I feel like I haven’t been very useful around here, so it was a tempting offer…” She sighed.

It wasn’t the first time Poe had tried to maneuver Rose into involving herself with the Resistance, something that would keep her rank and yet allow her to remain on Lira. Except, even in a small role, as a delegate or emissary, it would take her away for longer stretches of time, which she simply couldn’t abide.

To Rose, her place was by his side.

Still, at her frustration, Hux frowned, watching as she dug around in her bag.

“Not useful?” He questioned. “Absurd.”

She’d assisted with far more than her fair share, helping coordinate many of the younger cadets, taking charge of cataloging all the tech they’d removed from the Destroyer; she’d made their quarters feel like home.

That last thought, especially, tugged on Hux’s heart.

He lay a hand over hers as she continued to extract things from her bag, knickknacks from her barracks and odd-shaped spanners of which he was sure they already had duplicates of.

Rose paused at his touch, looking up at him.

A frown creased his brow.

She sighed, shoulders hunching. “I know. I’m being dramatic. I just feel like I’m floating around helping with little bits. I need something to sink my teeth into, you know?”

A small smile quirked his mouth.

“I might have an idea on how to remedy that,” he muttered, drawing her closer once again.

Rose’s face lit up with curiosity. “Oh yeah?”

Hux hummed, relieving her of her jacket, feeling a swell of pride as she relaxed in his arms.

“I have been thinking,” he said, gaze flickering over her face; her slightly disheveled hair, the flush of her cheeks. “If I am to open an Academy here, for the cadets—”

“ _Former_ cadets,” she corrected, allowing him to ease her along, sinking into his lap as he sat down upon the table’s seating, one of her legs on either side of his hips.

“Former cadets,” he amended, enjoying the weight of her upon him, how in this position he could look up into her beautiful face.

He feathered his touch up the back of her neck, pulling out the pins of her buns as he spoke.

“It’s all well and good to devise a scientific curriculum,” he said, gaze darkening as her hair fell down around his fingers, “but it seems a shame to deny them a proper education in certain… _engineering_ aspects.”

A flushed look of surprise and glee came over the woman in his arms. She was practically vibrating with excitement.

Breathless, she whispered, “Hux… are you offering me a job? A _teaching_ job?”

“Would you want it?” He asked, sitting up a little straighter, both his hand buried in her hair as they sat nose-to-nose.

“It is merely a request,” he amended, making sure he wasn’t pressing his idea upon her. “It would be up to you, of course.”

Rose flashed him a brilliant smile, gripping him by the arms. “Yes! Stars, yes! I could write my own standards. We could work on parts of the Destroyer. I could teach them all that advanced tech! Hux!”

Hux watched the joy swell within her with a half-smile on his lips, marveling in the way Rose always made him feel so _light,_ so _happy,_ just by merely being in her presence.

Suddenly she was pouting again, sending him reeling at her sudden shift in mood.

“You always do this!” She huffed.

Hux looked bewildered. “P-Pardon?”

Rose let her bottom lip jut out. “I had my own surprise and _everything_ and you just had to steal the moment!” She wasn’t _mad_ , not really. In fact, her expression was quite adorable.

Hux laughed, a slight and breathy sound. “A surprise?”

Rose stood back up, but not before grinding her hips against his, a delicious punishment that made him groan, even as she left his grasp.

Quietly, she tiptoed over to the cloth-covered parcel she’d set down upon returning home, crouching down to its level. Looking back over her shoulder, she curled a finger at him, indicating he should come closer.

Hux cocked his head, eyes narrowing as he too stood, moving toward her.

“What did you buy this time,” he deadpanned, obviously teasing as he went to crouch beside her, balanced on the balls of his feet

Rose giggled, gleeful.

“Oh, you are _not_ ready for this,” she muttered. “He took me _forever_ to find.”

_“He?”_

Hux’s heart pounded as Rose lifted the shroud back from the cage, revealing the dark little bundle inside.

“I think he’s asleep,” she whispered, but her voice sounded like it was coming from very far away, because all Hux could focus on was the tiny, jet-black kitten curled there in the carrier.

Almost unconsciously, he slid to his knees upon the ground, thunderstruck.

The kitten must have heard them. It stirred, yawning with a little mewl, stretching its legs out and blinking its wide yellow eyes, ears perking up at the new sounds.

“Well? What do you think? Armitage?”

He couldn’t respond, mouth slacked open, forehead creased in concentration.

Emotion began to well its way up the back of his throat as the tiny creature got to its feet, back arching, letting out another delicate sound as it kneaded the bedding, blinking slowly back out at him.

“Oh Hux…” Rose reached, out rubbing circles on his back as she watched his gaze grow glassy.

With shaking fingers, he reached out to unlock the front of the cage, the tiny kitten meowing sleepily as it slipped its way out into the room, nuzzling against Hux’s outstretched hand.

Hux let out a strangled breath, curling his fingers under the kitten’s tiny chin, the small animal closing its yellow eyes in contentment as it brushed further up his wrist.

“You’re right,” he whispered, struggling to speak through thick emotion, “this is a much better surprise. Thank you, Rose.”

Rose grinned. “His box and food are being unloaded, but it should be here soon. What do you want to call him?”

Hux let the kitten paw at his pant leg, still scarcely able to believe what he was seeing.

“I suppose ‘Major Tico’ is off the table,” he said, with no small amount of wonder.

Rose laughed, standing back up to unpack her bag, content to let Hux and the kitten get acquainted. “Maybe just Major, huh?”

“Major,” Hux echoed, a bit breathless, stroking the kitten’s spine with a gentle finger. Major arched into the tough, clearly delighted with all the new attention.

The sudden tactile memory of Millicent, warm and alive under his touch, was so visceral that it took his breath away. The fingers of his other hand curled slowly into a fist, drawn in tight against his hip, tense with emotion.

Rose watched them both with a warm look. She thought he looked so very handsome, with his rare look of surprise and delight.

Nothing would replace Millicent, she knew that. Just like nothing would replace Paige, either. Not Hux’s love, not Rey’s friendship, not anything.

What felt like forever ago, when he’d sat broken upon the floor of his cell, she’d told him the truth. Loss was loss. She understood.

Hux did not know how to say thank you, not for this, so he settled on moving up to hold her close, pressing his forehead against hers, closing his eyes and relishing in the way she sang through his veins. In the stillness of the moment, in the slight sound of their contented, shared breathing, Major flopped onto his shoes, a purring puddle of inky back upon the toe of his boot. 

They prepared their dinner not long after, a simple meal of roasted meat and local vegetables, seasoned and cooked in their small sonic oven. As Rose chopped the produce into manageable chunks, Hux went about braising the thick cut of marbled venison on the cooktop.

Rose hummed while she worked, Major winding around their ankles, so focused on the task at hand that she didn’t hear Hux come up behind her. He leaned over her to grab a jar of spices from the built-in shelf, and as he did so Rose felt the warmth of his body press into her from behind, the contact a little too weighty for it to be completely by accident. 

She smiled, wiggling her hips a little. She could practically hear the devilish smirk on Hux’s face, if she couldn’t see it.

Despite his apprehension, she’d insisted on making up one of the portions of polystarch she’d brought back with her from the Resistance base, mixing the brownish flour with warm water from the sink tap. 

“How can you stomach that..” Hux muttered, checking the roast’s internal temperature. 

“It’s mostly nostalgia.” Rose admitted, watching as the powder was quickly absorbed, the concoction rising up into a doughy mound.

“But still,” she added, “it’s not _that_ bad.”

She stuck it in the oven for good measure, just to crisp up the crust.

Hux had made a face at her words, but later she noticed he’d sliced himself a small helping, just enough to sop up the reduction at the bottom of the roast pan.

“Not so terrible, is it?” She teased.

“Must be the quality of the baker,” he managed around the mouthful, blush high on his cheeks.

After they’d eaten, Rose insisted on bringing out the celebratory drink. They hadn’t opened it yet, their housewarming gift from the others, but Rose thought it an extremely appropriate choice given all the excitement.

“Good thing you have me,” Hux muttered in her ear as he reached up higher than she could, pulling the bottle of Corellian whiskey from the top shelf above the cold storage unit.

Rose stuck out her tongue at him, grabbing their glasses and sitting down upon the bench.

“To your new job, _Professor,”_ Hux said from across the table, eyes glittering in the darkening evening, pale moonlight beginning to filter in through the kitchen window.

“To new additions,” Rose added, voice soft as she watched Hux’s gaze slide over to the kitten, now curled and napping on the armchair.

She raised her glass, finger of amber liquid rocking gently within.

Hux mirrored her, their cups kissing with a gentle _clink_ , Hux hiding a smile at Rose’s sour expression as she took a sip.

“It’s an acquired taste,” he admitted, savoring the flavor himself before lowering his glass.

Rose flashed him a smile, shifting her knees onto her seat so she could lean over the table toward him.

“Well, I know something about acquired tastes, don’t I?” she said, appraising him. “I seem to have a nasty habit of wanting things others might find a little too… _tough_ to handle.”

His eyebrows jumped, even as he leaned forward to capture her lips in a sweet, slow kiss.

He shifted, moving to deepen the contact, but Rose suddenly yawned widely against his mouth.

“Oh!” She pulled back, hand slapping over her expression, eyes squinting closed.

Hux tried to look annoyed, but it was impossible to be cross with her.

“Shall I take you to bed, Miss Tico?” he asked her, voice pitched low.

“Mmhmm,” Rose intoned, yawning again as she let him walk her to the fresher.

He had planned on ravishing her silly that night, but by the time he’d cleaned up their quarters and changed, she was already snoring away in their bed, tangled up in the soft sheets that barely concealed her naked form beneath.

Hux shook his head, chuckling to himself, checking briefly on Major’s water and food before turning off the already dimmed lights and slipping into bed beside her.

Instinctually, she nestled closer, wrapping him up in her warm embrace, as intense in her sleep as she was when awake.

“You were the only good thing,” he whispered into the crown of her head, feeling less embarrassed in telling her his deepest feelings as she slept. “The only one I couldn’t push away, because you refused to let me.”

Surrendering to her… it had felt like winning, in the end.

He held her close, afraid she’d disappear if he wasn’t careful; if he didn’t remind himself how lucky he was.

Soon, he drifted to sleep in her arms, her presence a sweet, soothing balm that seemed to ward off even his most stubborn nights of insomnia, as well as his darkest of nightmares.

* * *

Rose woke first the next morning, a cool morning breeze slipping in through the crack of their bedroom window. She shivered, pressing closer to the man at her side, mouthing his shoulder in a lazy kiss, wet in the way she knew he would hate.

He usually woke before her, so she wasn’t going to waste this rare opportunity.

Scooting back, Rose shifted onto her side, watching Hux as he slept beside her, having ended up on his stomach, clutching his pillow, his head turned toward her.

Rose smiled, gaze darting over the smooth, slack plain of his cheek, where he was sporting just a hint of morning stubble, down to where his deliciously plush lips were parted, breathing gently in his slumber.

He looked so peaceful like this, she thought, all the care and worry lines smoothed from his forehead. He looked young, as if he’d never seen a day of war in his entire life.

Rose sat up slowly on her elbow. Resting the side of her face in her palm, she pulled the sheet down over Hux’s back, revealing more of his smooth, pale skin.

There were scars there, too, like the ones on his chest. She’d mapped them all by now; every shallow escape of a knife, every punishing burn, with her mouth as well as her fingertips. He’d been shy about it at first, ashamed, but Rose only saw them as a testament to how far he’d come, how much he had endured; how he had survived.

Leaning over further, Rose gently walked her fingers down the notches of his spine, a slow march that drew her lower as her hand inched below the sheets.

Save for Rose and her pendant, they both slept bare; of all the things to have in common. Rose enjoyed the skin-to-skin contact, feeling overheated with any extra layers. For Hux, his night terrors had been so intense in the past, that he’d felt strangled by any clothing. Now, it was simply habit.

Eventually, as her wandering touch finally reached the deliciously pert swell of his ass, he must have finally stirred awake. Rose heard Hux mumble something, voice rough in the early morning, his body turning toward her almost unconsciously as he woke.

Rose grinned, dipping her hand down over his newly exposed front, charting an exploratory line with her fingers. When she reached the thatch of hair between his legs, she stole a glance back up at him.

He was certainly awake, and watching her, one green eye open and peering down at her with a slight frown.

“Morning,” she said sweetly, hopefully sweet enough that he wouldn’t be too cross at being woken up in such an untoward manor.

Hux huffed out his nose, sounding unamused, closing his eyes again even as he let her push against his hip and roll him onto his back. Rose inched back up, curling against his side.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” she whispered, head level with the side of his chest, which she began dotting with kisses.

“Yes you did,” he muttered, slinging an arm over his eyes to ward out the light, even as Rose slipped down once again and began mouthing down his stomach.

She felt him quiver as she brushed over a sensitive spot near his hip, but she didn’t linger long, lowering further to nuzzle against the soft skin below his belly button. Her hand ghosted down, gently caressing the length of him, already semi-hard, before she ducked her head and kissed the velvety tip. He made a soft noise at that, somewhere between a moan and a grunt, sucking in a breath as she took him fully into her mouth.

He was still a little soft, not yet fully awake, and Rose delighted in the way she swirled her tongue around him, feeling his arousal build by the growing firmness under all her attention.

Working her mouth down his length and back up again, pleased in the way he twitched against her lips, she pulled off with a wet little _pop_ , pleased to see she’d been successful in riling him up into a hard and needy state.

Rose hummed, wiping her mouth, and glanced up at him.

Hux was watching her from under his arm, green eyes dark with desire, even as his neck flushed pink with embarrassment.

“I could just leave you like this,” she teased, tone sweet despite her words; despite the way she sat up and swung her legs over to straddle his hips.

“You wouldn't dare,” he challenged, moving his hands up to grip her thighs, massaging there as she wriggled against him. He squinted a bit in the light, which drew out the color in his eyes, like sunshine peeking through fine, green beach glass. The glare made him look more frustrated and cross than aroused.

Rose bit her lip.

It was really cute.

She leaned over him, bracing her palms against his lightly defined chest as his hands found their way to her ass. “I wouldn’t dare, huh? You want to test that theory?”

“I’m compelled to say ‘yes,’ but only in defense of my pride, quite honestly,” he grumbled, even as she lifted up onto her knees, pushing off his chest.

“Pfft. I’m not that mean and you know it.”

He sucked in a breath as she reached back and took him in hand, holding him steady as she scooted lower to hover above him. From this angle, he could see the shine of how wet she was. Had working him over really aroused her that much? The thought of it, and the sight of her, caused a hungry heat to coil low in his belly.

His hands tensed around her hips as she sunk down onto him, inch by inch, watching as she closed her eyes and bit at her bottom lip, lifting up slightly and bearing down again and again in little motions, taking him slowly until she settled in his lap and he was sheathed to the hilt.

Hux rolled his head back against the pillow, gritting his teeth at the feeling of her squeezing around him.

Rose huffed, finally stilling to catch her breath. “How’s _that_ for mean?”

She watched Hux’s jaw work, enjoying the way the early daylight made his mussed-up hair glint and shine against the slate-grey sheets.

“Your benevolence has been noted,” he managed to say, after a moment or two.

Rose still hadn’t relaxed her legs, not allowing her entire weight to sink down onto him. It would be too deep too fast, and she wanted to draw it out, until that sizzling pressure had her grinding down on him.

Spurred on by the expression of pleasured torture that twisted his face, she undulated her hips, rising and falling on him as she controlled the pace, feeling power in the way he was barely was able to resist raising his hips, chasing after her heat.

Suddenly, his hips bucked up, meeting her halfway down, and the spot he reached inside sent a jolt of intense pleasure coursing through her, causing her to gasp in a breathy, startled laugh, breaking off into a moan as he did it again.

His eyes were slits as he regarded her, gaze intense, but his mouth was slanted open. She could hear him panting slightly as they moved in unison; not a hurried pace, but a firm one.

The sight and sound of him spurred Rose on to snake her hand down her front as she let herself drop a little heavier onto him, caressing herself as he reached out to knead her breast, rolling her nipple between his thumb and the side of his palm.

The pinch caught her by surprise, eliciting a pleased little, “Oh!”

The feeling of it: the tight heat of Hux as he filled her, the sizzle of pleasure at her own fingertips, the punishing twinge as he tweaked her nipple again, it all had her grinding down on his hips, letting him touch deep inside.

“Ah, that feels good,” she gasped, trying to reach out and anchor herself against him with her free hand, even as her pleasure soared higher.

Hux watched her head fall back, breath coming out sharper and higher in octave, her body trembling around him and clenching in anticipation. He could feel the way it made his hips and stomach tight as he too neared that edge.

He snapped his hips with a grunt of exertion, just shy of rough. He wanted to give her more, everything; make her fall apart above him as he held her in his hands and in his heart.

As her orgasm overtook her, sending her to quiver, Rose was unable to fully clamp down on the whimper that passed her lips. Hux pulled her hips down tight against him and kept her there, peaking just a few moments later, pleasure radiating out from where they were joined, each subsequent pulse shuddering through him.

In that moment, she owned him completely.

Seconds later, Hux was momentarily jolted from his hazy afterglow, Rose collapsing onto his chest, panting, warm and heavy against him. His arms wrapped around her instinctually, holding her close.

“You’re mine, Armitage,” she sighed against him, voice thick with ebbing ecstasy. She nibbled at his collarbone and shoulder. “And I’m all yours.”

Hux swallowed thickly, arms constricting, her words flooding his heart.

“I love you Rose,” he said, voice cracking a bit. 

Funny. After saying those words to her in a room full of enemies and would-be allies, they _almost_ came out easy.

Rose hummed, completely content. “I love you too.”

It was rare for him to have overslept like he had, but now, Hux didn’t want to move at all. He entertained the idea of keeping her there, in bed with him, for the entire day.

In the cozy silence that followed, Rose almost drifted off again, head on his chest, but they were both suddenly roused by a petulant little meow, accompanied by the sound of tiny claws snagging on the sheets that had slid off sideways.

Head on his chest, Rose heard Hux chuckle. The reverberation of his voice coupled with the strong sound of his heartbeat made Rose nearly choke with a sudden swell of emotion.

 _Alive_ , that heartbeat told her.

Alive, despite all the war and hate and desperation.

In the face of it all, they had survived, even found belonging, and now, wrapped tight in each other’s arms, they were never letting go.

For the man who drew her in, claiming her mouth in a lazy kiss, Rose had been his first chance at peace; something he could choose to give himself to of his own volition.

It made her heart sing with joy she’d never thought she’d feel, and especially not for him.

In all honesty, before he went and crash landed into her life, Rose could have understood why some might have given up Hux for lost. She’d wanted to, at first, but had found she simply couldn’t.

Pride had forced her to try, because no one else had; because it was the only way to save him, because he wasn’t some lost cause forever consigned to darkness.

No one was.

From desert rat to General of the First Order, miner’s daughter to Senator’s son, they all deserved a chance to reach and grow and learn and love.

And when you gave it the whole of your heart, there was always hope to be found.

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to everyone who has followed me on this journey. You are all so inspiring!
> 
> Thank you also to all the amazing artists who created art and other media for this story. It is so very humbling to know that my words can inspire such creativity.
> 
> Thank you to Ashtoret over on ficbook for taking on the daunting task of translating this work, and thank you to all the readers over on ficbook as well! It has been such a joy to translate and read your comments. It warms my heart to know that even so far away, we can enjoy this moment together.
> 
> Thank you too to everyone over on the gingerose Discord. You guys are a crazy bunch and keep me going. I love the chaotic energy and the strong support group we have created. Never stop!
> 
> A huge, monumental thank you to Brit for being an amazing beta, editor, and friend! I really feel like we find inspiration in each other. I’ve so enjoyed working on projects together, and I hope to continue to do so. If you haven’t already, please check out Brit’s work under @birchwoods01 or “Brit Hux-Tico”. She constantly amazes me with her ability to produce such excellent writing on such a consistent basis. She deserves all the love and reviews you could give her!
> 
> And finally, a sincere thank you to my hubby Dan who has been my emotional, moral, and creative support for more than ten years. You are my happily ever after! I’m sorry you had to read and edit all that smut (but not really though). 
> 
> Keep an eye out for more gingerose stories to come! For now, thank you again. Be safe, be good to each other, and all my love.
> 
> -Alex


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